THE  GIFT  OF 

FLORENCE  V.  V.  DICKEY 

TO  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


THE  DONALD  R.  DICKEY 

LIBRARY 
OF  VERTEBRATE  ZOOLOGY 


Uniform  with  this  Volume, 

W  E  N  S  L  E  Y 

&HQ  ©tfycc  Stories. 

BY    EDMUND    QUINCY. 

EDITED  BY  HIS  SON,  EDMUND  QUINCY. 
One  vol.  13mo.    $1.50. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers ;  or  sent  postpaid,  upon 
receipt  of  price,  by  the  publishers, 

TICKNOR    AND    COMPANY. 
BOSTON. 


THE 


HAUNTED  ADJUTANT 

€>t!)er 


BY    EDMUND     QUINCY 


EDITED    BY  HIS   SON,  EDMUND    QUINCY 


BOSTON 
TICKNOR    AND     COMPANY 

1885 


Copyright,  1885, 
BY  EDMUND  QUINCY. 

All  rights  reserved. 


JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE. 


CONTENTS. 


FACE 

AN   OCTOGENARY 3 

THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT 143 

LEWIS  HERBERT 247 

Two  NIGHTS  IN  ST.  DOMINGO 273 

PHCEBE  MALLORY 301 

OLD  HOUSES 327 

DINAH  ROLLINS 353 


550754 


AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS  SINCE. 


AN   OCTOGENAHY 

FIFTY  YEARS  SINCE. 


CHAPTEE    I. 

"A  gentleman  he  was  of  the  old  time, 
One  of  those  relics  of  the  golden  past 
That  stand  among  the  things  of  modern  times 
Like  column-shafts  taken  from  ruins  hoar, 
Yet  perfect  in  themselves,  to  grace  the  halls 
Of  our  secluded  mansions." 

VICTORINE,  A  MS.  DRAMA; 

TT  is  now  something  more  than  fifty  years  ago  that 
•*-  I  was  an  undergraduate  at  Harvard  College.  My 
home  was  in  a  remote  part  of  New  England,  which 
in  those  days  before  railroads  were  imagined,  and 
before  even  stage-coaches  were  introduced,  was  prac 
tically  as  far  distant  as  the  most  remote  of  the  last 
batch  of  new  States  is  at  the  present  day.  My  in 
tercourse  with  my  family  was  necessarily  confined  to 
two  or  three  short  visits  during  the  course  of  my 
college  life,  —  one  of  which  I  accomplished  on  foot, — 
and  to  a  straggling  letter,  which  now  and  then  came 
lagging  along  in  the  saddle-bags  of  the  mail-carrier, 
and  which  by  a  wonderful  coincidence,  scarcely  less 


4  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

remarkable  than  the  consentaneous  decease  of  Adams 
and  Jefferson,  sometimes  fell  into  the  hands  of  its 
lawful  proprietor.  Whatever  may  be  the  sins  of  the 
gentleman  who  now  presides  as  tutelary  genius  over 
the  mail-bags  of  the  nation  at  Washington,  I  believe 
that  no  one  who  remembers  the  way  in  which  the 
epistolary  intercourse  of  the  country  was  managed 
half  a  century  ago,  would  care  to  exchange  the  sys 
tem  of  which  he  is  the  head  for  the  good  old  plan 
which  encumbered  the  days  of  the  Confederation.  I 
truly  believe  that  the  ingenuous  youth  who  are  rel 
egated  by  their  anxious  sires  to  the  universities  of 
the  petty  princes  of  Germany  to  learn  how  to  act  the 
part  of  Republican  citizens,  and  who  often  return, 
spectacles  for  men  and  angels,  wiser  than  their  mas 
ters,  with  beard  and  hair  streaming  more  meteor-like 
than  theirs,  and  transcending  even  the  transcenden 
talism  of  the  newest  school  of  philosophy,  in  short, 
as  Tacitus  says,  Germanis  ipsis  Germanior,  —  I  say  I 
truly  believe  that  these  rising  hopes  of  our  country 
are  more  liable  to  be  regularly  and  easily  interrupted 
in  their  more  important  pursuits  by  the  arrival  of 
long-drawn-out  epistles,  full  of  the  exploded  doctrines 
of  the  New  England  school  of  philosophy  and  reli 
gion,  though  three  thousand  miles  removed,  than  I 
was  at  a  distance  of  little  more  than  a  hundred  and 
fifty. 

Be  these  things  as  they  may,  whenever  one  of  these 
loitering  missives  did  arrive,  it  was  sure  to  contain, 
among  much  excellent  advice  and  sound  instruction, 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  5 

an  injunction  to  take  the  earliest  opportunity  of  visit 
ing  old  Colonel  Wyborne,  a  distant  relative  of  the 
family,  and  one  to  whom  my  father  was  under  seri 
ous  obligations  for  good  services  done  him  before 
the  Revolutionary  war  compelled  him  to  retire  from 
Boston.  Like  a  foolish  boy  as  I  was,  I  postponed 
complying  with  this  repeated  injunction  from  year  to 
year.  I  felt  a  natural  awkwardness  about  going  near 
twenty  miles  to  see  an  old  gentleman,  of  whom  I  knew 
nothing  with  certainty,  except  that  he  lived  in  the 
most  complete  seclusion,  and  whose  reputation  for  ec 
centricity,  much  exaggerated  by  common  report,  made 
me  rather  nervous  about  my  reception.  I  much  pre 
ferred  spending  my  holidays  in  the  congenial  society 
of  my  dear  old  aunt  Champion,  and  begrudged  the 
monstrous  piece  that  a  visit  twenty  miles  off  would 
cut  out  of  the  longest  of  my  available  vacations. 
But  at  last  my  continued  negligence  drew  down  upon 
me  a  severer  rebuke  than  I  had  yet  received,  when  I 
was  on  my  summer's  visit  during  my  junior  year,  and 
I  was  laid  under  the  parental  command  (in  those  days 
the  highest  earthly  authority)  to  devote  the  ensuing 
Thanksgiving  holidays  to  a  visit  to  this  venerated 
relative.  Upon  my  return  to  college  I  made  it  my 
earliest  business  to  write  an  apologetic  letter,  excus 
ing  my  long  delays,  and  asking  his  permission  to  pay 
my  respects  to  him  during  the  Thanksgiving  week. 
In  due  course  of  time  I  received  a  cordial  affirmative, 
couched  in  the  most  courteous  and  condescending 
language,  disclaiming  any  right  on  his  part  to  expect 


6  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

such  a  sacrifice  of  time  and  pleasure  on  mine,  but  at 
the  same  time  giving  me  full  credit  for  my  readiness 
to  make  it,  and  expressing  the  warmest  pleasure  at 
the  idea  of  seeing  once  more  in  his  solitude  the  son 
of  his  old  and  valued  friends.  The  elegance  and 
urbanity  of  his  letter,  as  well  as  its  spirit  and  fire, 
prepossessed  me  strongly  in  favor  of  the  venerable 
writer ;  and  though  I  could  not  but  be  conscious  that 
I  did  not  deserve  all  the  commendations  that  he 
bestowed  upon  me,  yet  I  resolved  that  my  conduct 
should  be  such  in  future,  that  he  should  have  no  rea 
son  to  think  them  misplaced.  My  curiosity  was  now 
awakened  with  regard  to  his  character  and  history, 
and  I  lost  no  time  in  endeavoring  to  learn  what  I 
could  respecting  them  from  the  kind  oracle  to  whom 
I  have  before  alluded. 

On  the  very  next  Saturday  I  found  myself  sitting 
opposite  my  excellent  aunt  Champion,  separated 
from  her,  as  she  sat  in  her  high-backed  arm-chair, 
only  by  the  small  mahogany  table  from  which  the 
cloth  was  just  withdrawn  by  the  faithful  Dinah,  re 
vealing  its  polished  surface  and  carved  edges ;  and 
which  reflected  in  its  rosy  depths  the  images  of  the 
aspiring  decanter,  rising  with  a  graceful  swell  from 
its  firm  base  to  its  tapering  neck,  filled  with  the  rich 
vintage  of  the  most  fortunate  of  "  the  islands,  of  the 
blest;"  and  decorated,  as  were  the  wineglasses, — per 
fect  cones,  resting  securely  on  their  apices  upon  the 
tall  stems,  —  with  a  galaxy  of  stars,  and  festoons  of 
ribbons  with  fluttering  bows.  The  beams  of  the 


AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  7 

afternoon's  sun,  struggling  through  the  leaves  of  the 
garden  trees,  shone  aslant,  with  a  pleasant  autumnal 
glow,  upon  the  carpet  just  behind  her  chair.  My 
good  aunt,  when  she  filled  her  glass,  and  half  in  jest 
and  half  in  earnest,  gave  her  invariable  toast,  "  THE 
KING"  (a  political  heresy  which  the  sterling  excel 
lence  of  her  wine  went  far  to  palliate),  looked  like 
some  dame  of  a  former  age,  who  had  burst  her  cere 
ments,  and  returned  to  upper  air  to  reveal  some  an 
cestral  secret  to  her  youthful  descendant.  Having 
duly  drained  my  glass  in  honor  of  his  Britannic 
Majesty  (for  my  excellent  relative,  orthodox  in  all 
points,  abhorred  heel-taps),  and  incontinently  replen 
ished  it,  I  held  up  the  brimming  beaker  to  the  light, 
and  admiring  the  rich  hue  of  the  liquid  ruby,  —  glow 
ing  with  a  richness  and  depth  of  tint  which  might 
have  put  to  shame  any  cathedral-window  in  the 
world, — I  sighed,  and,  betwixt  game  and  earnest,  said, 
•*'  Ah,  my  dear  aunt,  we  must  make  the  most  of  this 
good  wine,  for  it  is  now  hard  to  find.  The  con 
founded  Eevolution  has  demolished  half  the  cellars 
in  the  country." 

"  It  is  so  indeed  ! "  the  good  lady  responded.  "  It 
was  but  last  week  that  I  dined  with  Governor  Han 
cock,  and  I  assure  you  the  wine  was  scarcely  drinka 
ble.  Indeed,  his  Excellency  apologized  for  it  by 
saying  that  his  cellar  had  gone  to  the  Devil  during 
the  war,  and  that  he  was  but  just  getting  it  to  rights 
again.  As  for  his  wine  having  gone  to  the  Devil,  I 
could  easily  account  for  that,  for  the  biggest  part  of 


8  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

it  had  gone  down  the  gullets  of  the  Sons  of  Liberty. 
But  that  he  should  have  been  so  besotted  with  party 
madness  as  to  have  neglected  to  keep  up  the  well- 
earned  fame  of  his  cellar,  is  amazing  —  he  who  was 
acknowledged  to  have  the  best  in  the  Province !  I 
could  almost  pardon  his  treason  sooner  than  this 
abominable  folly,"  she  said,  and  consoled  herself 
with  an  emphatic  pinch  of  snuff. 

"It  is,  indeed,"  replied  I,  "a  sad  defect  in  his 
character.  It  was  not  so  in  the  good  old  times  of 
the  royal  governors." 

"  Bless  you,  my  dear  boy !  no,  indeed !  that  it  was 
not,"  rejoined  my  good  aunt.  "  Why,  the  cellars  of 
the  old  Province  House  were  a  perfect  history  of  the 
Colony :  they  were  the  very  archives  of  good-fellow 
ship.  The  old  gray-headed  negro  butler  who  was 
transmitted  from  one  governor  to  another  for  many 
years,  had  a  history  for  every  pipe  and  bin  ;  and 
many  a  good  story  could  he  tell  of  the  merry  times 
of  Burnet  and  PownaL  Ah !  they  were  sad  fellows, 
and  had  a  set  of  roystering  blades  about  them.  All 
this,  you  understand,  however,  was  under  the  rose ; 
and  their  revels  were  so  managed  as  to  give  as  little 
offence  as  possible  to  their  righteous  subjects.  It 
was  pretty  well  understood,  however,  that,  like  old 
Noll,  they  were  more  given  to  seeking  the  corkscrew 
than  the  Lord." 

"  Our  gentlemen,  too,"  said  I,  "  have  lost  much  of 
the  spirit  which  honorably  distinguished  their  fathers, 
who  would  have  submitted  to  a  reproach  on  the  fair 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  9 

fame  of  their  ancestors  as  on  that  of  their  cellars. 
These  confounded  politics  have  distracted  their  atten 
tion  from  matters  of  real  importance." 

"  True  enough,  true  enough ! "  rejoined  Mrs.  Cham 
pion.  "  And  there  you  have  another  blessed  conse 
quence  of  this  glorious  Revolution  !  What  can  you 
expect  of  men  who  make  a  boast  of  despising  their 
claim  to  an  honorable  descent  ?  They  deserve  to 
drink  bad  wine  for  the  rest  of  their  days.  Cellar 
pride  cannot  long  outlive  family  pride."  She  ceased 
and  sighed. 

A  short  pause  ensued,  which  I  profitably  filled  up 
by  sipping  the  genial  juice  with  the  reverence  which 
the  thought  that  it  was  the  last  of  a  generous  stock 
was  fitted  to  inspire.  My  dear  aunt  sat  silent,  tap 
ping  her  snuff-box  with  her  fruit-knife,  and  evidently 
absorbed  in  sad  meditation  on  the  degeneracy  of  the 
times,  and  on  the  change  which  had  stolen  over  the 
Jittle  world  in  which  she  lived,  and  tinged  with  a 
more  sombre  hue  the  evening  of  her  days. 

Willing  to  divert  her  mind  from  this  melancholy 
abstraction,  I  reverted  to  the  subject  immediately 
before  us,  and,  throwing  an  air  of  sympathy  and 
interest  into  my  manner,  I  inquired,  — 

"  Pray,  my  dear  aunt,  what  may  be  the  history  of 
this  good  wine  ? " 

"This  wine,"  she  replied,  starting  from  her  rev- 
ery,  "  this  wine  is  the  Quebec  wine,  so  called  from 
the  circumstance  of  its  having  arrived  in  harbor  on 
the  same  day  on  which  the  news  of  Wolfe's  victory 


10  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

was  received.  My  husband  immediately  christened 
it  with  the  name  of  that  glorious  battle,  and  always, 
as  long  as  he  lived,  nursed  the  infant  liquor  with 
peculiar  care.  One  pipe  of  it,  I  remember,  he  forth 
with,  on  the  very  day,  despatched  to  John  Wyborne 
at  Sanfield." 

"  What ! "  interrupted  I,  "  old  Colonel  Wyborne  ? 
He  is  the  very  person  I  wanted  to  ask  you.  about ; 
and  this  is  certainly  a  pleasant  introduction  to  my 
inquiries.  Pray,  aunt,  what  manner  of  man  was  he  ? 
For  I  am  going  to  spend  the  next  Thanksgiving 
holidays  with  him." 

"  John  Wyborne !  He  is  a  nobleman  of  God's 
dwn  creation,  a  man  of  ten  thousand.  I  have  known 
him  from  his  boyhood,  and  have  never  known  a 
man  on  whose  mind  and  body  Nature  had  more 
plainly  stamped  GENTLEMAN.  However,  I  have  not 
seen  him  for  these  twenty  years ;  for,  since  I  laid 
down  my  carriage  on  your  uncle's  death,  I  have 
never  been  to  see  him,  and  it  is  more  than  twice 
that  number  of  years  since  he  was  in  Boston ;  so 
that  it  is  not  unlikely  that  time  may  have  made 
some  inroads  on  his  outer  man.  But  I  will  answer 
for  the  freshness  of  his  mind  and  his  heart." 

"  I  think  you  may  safely  do  that,  my  dear  aunt," 
I  replied,  "  for  I  have  proof  of  it  under  his  own  hand 
and  seal ; "  saying  which,  I  produced  his  letter  to  me, 
and  by  my  aunt's  request  read  it  to  her,  she  having 
mislaid  her  spectacles.  Her  eyes  glistened  as  I  pro 
ceeded;  for  the  characteristic  animation  and  point 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  11 

and  high-breeding  of  the  letter,  evidently  awoke  rec 
ollections  and  feelings  which  had  long  slept,  and 
carried  her  back  to  the  days  when  they  were  both 
young  and  hopeful  and  happy.  When  I  had  done, 
and  restored  the  epistle  to  my  pocketbook,  after  a 
moment's  musing  she  said, — 

"Ah!  that  is  like  him:  that  is  like  John  Wy- 
borne.  What  a  man  was  lost  to  the  world  when  he 
forsook  it  !  That  was  the  only  mistake  he  ever 
made  —  except,  indeed,  his  taking  the  wrong  side  in 
the  late  Rebellion." 

"  I  have  heard,"  said  I,  "  that  he  is  the  least  in  the 
world  of  a  humorist,  though  no  one  seems  to  know 
much  about  him.  Do  you  know  what  induced  him 
to  give  up  the  world  and  retire  to  Saufield  in  the 
prime  of  his  life  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes  ! "  she  replied.  "  I  know  all  about  his 
history.  But  as  to  his  being  a  humorist  in  the  usual 
acceptation  of  the  word,  I  do  not  believe  a  word  of  it. 
I  have  sometimes  thoiight  that  a  distinction  should 
be  made  in  that  order  of  nature  between  the  bad 
humorists  (by  far  the  larger  division)  and  the  good 
humorists.  The  first  are  a  set  of  selfish,  peevish 
wretches,  the  torment  of  their  wives  and  servants, 
and  the  annoyance  of  their  neighbors;  who  think 
that  the  reputation  of  oddity  which  they  have  culti 
vated  will  cover  and  excuse  the  multitude  of  their 
vexatious  though  petty  iniquities.  The  second  class 
is  composed  of  men  of  the  finest  natures  and  gen 
tlest  dispositions,  whom  some  unlucky  crook  in  their 


12  AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

lot  has  put  a  little  out  of  conceit  with  the  world 
and  its  ways,  and  who,  withdrawing  from  the  beaten 
paths  of  life,  pursue  by  themselves  what  seems  to 
them  the  chief  good  of  existence,  indifferent  to  the 
wonder  and  contempt  of  those  who  are  in  hot  chase 
of  the  more  generally  recognized  objects  of  human 
pursuit,  and  in  whose  heart  it  is  not  easy  to  conceive 
of  any  other  motives  of  human  action.  This  sort  of 
men,  however,  are  most  fastidiously  careful  never  to 
permit  their  oddities  to  chill  the  kindliness  of  their 
hearts,  and  to  interfere  with  the  comforts  of  others  : 
they  ride  their  hobbies  with  so  careful  a  rein,  that 
they  never  run  against  or  unhorse  any  of  their  neigh 
bors  whom  they  meet  prancing  on  theirs  on  the 
King's  Highway.  A  humorist  in  this  sense  it  can 
not  be  denied  John  Wyborne  is." 

"  But  what  was  the  disturbing  cause,"  I  inquired, 
"  which  made  him  shoot  from  his  sphere  ?  Was  he 
crossed  in  love,  or  ambition,  or  business  ?  Or  what 
might  it  have  been  ?  " 

"Why,  he  can  hardly  be  properly  said  to  have 
been  crossed  in  either,"  replied  my  aunt ;  "  and  yet 
it  was  certainly  disappointment  that  drove  him  into 
seclusion.  But  it  is  a  long  story  —  too  long  to  be 
told  now :  we  will  reserve  it  for  some  of  our  winter 
evenings." 

"But  pray,  my  dear  aunt,"  I  remonstrated,  "give 
me  a  skeleton  of  his  history  and  character,  if  you 
have  not  time  to  dissect  them  scientifically  "  (I  was 
at  this  time  dipping  into  medical  and  anatomical 


AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  13 

books),  "  for  I  may  not  see  you  again  before  I  pay 
my  visit ;  and  I  should  be  sorry  to  venture  into  such 
a  curious  country  without  some  sort  of  a  map  for  my 
direction." 

"  Well,  well,"  good-naturedly  rejoined  my  aunt, 
"  you  were  always  a  spoiled  child,  and,  never  having 
been  refused  anything  you  thought  proper  to  ask  for, 
I  suppose  that  is  a  good  reason  for  your  not  being 
denied  anything  now.  So  fill  your  glass  and  mine, 
and  we  will  drink  the  good  Colonel's  health."  Which 
having  been  duly  performed,  my  aunt  proceeded : 
"  John  Wyborne's  father  was  a  merchant  in  the 
golden  days  of  the  town  (commercially  speaking,  I 
mean),  when  it  had  a  free  trade  to  all  parts  of  the 
world,  and  no  man  asked  of  any  New  England  ship 
whence  it  came  or  whither  it  went.  In  that  world, 
before  colonial  policy  or  custom-house  officers,  old 
Mr.  Wyborne  flourished,  and  made  a  princely  fortune, 
for  those  days,  or,  indeed,  subsequent  times  ;  for  he 
left  at  his  death  no  less  a  sum  than  fifty  thousand 
pounds  sterling.  When  the  Colonies  had  grown  into 
importance  enough  to  attract  the  attention  of  the 
ministry  at  home,  and  restrictions  were  laid  upon 
the  trade  of  the  Province,  Mr.  Wyborne  withdrew 
from  business ;  and  obtaining  admission  into  the 
General  Court,  and  afterwards  into  the  Council,  spent 
the  remainder  of  his  days  agreeably  enough  in  annoy 
ing  the  Governor,  and  doing  his  best  to  thwart  all 
his  favorite  measures,  and  cut  down  his  salary.  In 
the  intervals,  however,  of  these  useful  and  pleasant 


14  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

avocations,  he  found  time  hang  rather  heavily  on  his 
hands,  and  bethought  himself  of  taking  a  wife  to  help 
him  bear  the  burden.  In  those  days,  as  now,  it 
generally  happened,  by  some  chance  or  other,  that 
a  man  with  fifty  thousand  pounds  in  his  pocket  was 
not  long  to  seek  for  a  wife.  Mr.  Wyborne  was  no 
exception  to  the  rule,  and  before  many  months  he 
was  the  husband  of  Miss  Armytage,  a  daughter  of 
one  of  the  oldest  families  in  New  England  —  or  in 
Old  England  either,  for  that  matter.  I  have  heard 
my  mother  tell  of  the  splendid  style  in  which  they 
lived  in  their  fine  house  in  King  Street :  there  was 
no  family  in  the  Province  who  approached  them  in 
their  manner  of  living.  They  had  no  children  till 
the  birth  of  Colonel  Wyborne,  in  the  year  1701. 

"  Mr.  Wyborne  died  in  the  full  prime  of  his  life,  in 
the  year  1711,  when  his  son  was  but  ten  years  old; 
but  his  widow  survived  him  for  many  years.  Colo 
nel  Wyborne  was  reared  in  the  usual  style  of  that 
day;  was  flogged  by  Master  Cheever  at  the  Latin 
School  into  a  competent  knowledge  of  Latin;  and, 
after  the  usual  transmigrations  from  the  fagging 
freshman  to  the  dictatorial  senior,  he  took  his  degree 
in  the  year  1720.  He  remained  at  Cambridge  for 
three  years,  —  till  he  proceeded  Master  of  Arts, 
which  was  then  a  usual  thing  for  those  who  could 
afford  the  expense.  Having  thus  finished  his  aca 
demical  course,  he  resolved  to  visit  Europe,  —  an 
undertaking  of  no  common  occurrence  in  those  days, 
when  it  was  thought  little  less  than  a  tempting  of 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  15 

Providence  for  a  man  to  cross  the  ocean,  unless  it 
were  to  bespeak  a  cargo  of  English  goods,  or  to  look 
out  for  a  grateful  recipient  of  salt  fish  and  lumber ; 
which,  of  course,  altered  the  moral  bearings  of  the 
transaction  altogether.  Mrs.  Wyborne  most  stren 
uously  opposed  her  son's  plan,  and  urged  against  it 
all  the  arguments  which  she  could  draw  from  the 
perils  of  the  sea  and  the  temptations  of  the  shore,  — 
a  species  of  logic  which  I  have  remarked  to  make 
but  little  impression  upon  the  understandings  of 
young  gentlemen  who  have  been  infected  with  a 
propensity  to  do  as  they  liked,  and  had  the  power 
in  their  own  hands  of  doing  it.  Dr.  Cotton  Mather, 
too,  employed  a  whole  afternoon  and  evening  in 
attempting  to  defeat  a  project  which  would  remove 
from  his  congregation  one  of  its  wealthiest  members 
for  an  indefinite  period,  at  the  very  time  of  life  when 
his  own  influence  might  be  most  certainly  fastened 
upon  him,  and  who  might  not,  improbably,  return 
with  a  yearning  after  the  more  liberal  atmosphere 
of  the  Manifesto  Church.  Maternal  entreaties  and 
ecclesiastical  warnings  were,  however,  in  vain,  and  to 
London  he  went  by  the  next  ship  that  sailed  for 
home.  Not  long  after  his  departure,  his  mother 
consoled  herself  for  his  loss  by  marrying  the  Eev. 
Mr.  Selleck,  minister  of  the  town  of  Sanfield,  where 
Colonel  Wyborne  now  lives.  For  a  year  or  two  after 
his  departure,  his  young  contemporaries  and  friends 
received  frequent  letters  from  him,  giving  full  and 
glowing  accounts  of  his  success,  beyond  his  hopes,  in 


16  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

accomplishing  the  great  objects  of  travel.  A  variety 
of  circumstances,  which  I  cannot  now  recapitulate, 
aided  by  his  ample  means,  prepossessing  appearance 
and  address,  and  also  by  the  novelty  of  his  character 
as  an  accomplished  transatlantic,  introduced  him 
into  the  brilliant  circles  of  wit  and  fashion  which 
distinguished  the  reigns  of  George  I.  and  George  II. 
He  was  well  received  by  '  the  wicked  wasp  of 
Twickenham,'  was  domesticated  at  Lydiard  a  few 
years  later,  and  when  in  Dublin  was  admitted  to  a 
share  in  the  somewhat  unclerical  frolics  of  the  Dean 
of  St.  Patrick's.  His  success,  however,  was  not  con 
fined  to  that  disappointed  though  brilliant  coterie  ; 
for  he  was  admitted  to  the  dressing-room  of  Lady 
Mary  Wortley,  had  bowed  at  Sir  Kobert's  levee,  a«d 
was  well  received  at  court.  His  good  fortune  accom 
panied  him  to  France,  where  he  had  an  opportunity 
of  witnessing,  and,  I  fear,  of  partaking,  the  profligate 
revels  of  the  Regent  Duke  of  Orleans,  and  was  well 
acquainted  with  Voltaire  in  his  prime.  The  blandish 
ments  of  Paris,  however,  did  not  detain  him  long 
from  Italy,  where  he  lingered  for  two  years,  seduced 
by  its  delicious  climate  and  immortal  ruins.  At  the 
end  of  two  years  he  returned  to  England  ;  but  before 
this  time  his  correspondence  with  his  Boston  friends 
had  flagged,  as  correspondences  are  apt  to  do,  and 
soon  after  breathed  its  last.  His  intercourse  with 
his  mother  was  kept  up  till  her  death ;  but,  from 
the  distance  at  which  she  lived,  we  in  town  gleaned 
but  scanty  accounts  of  his  adventures.  In  fact,  from 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  17 

about  the  year  1726  or  1727,  we  almost  entirely  lost 
sight  of  him ;  and,  as  years  rolled  away,  his  image 
grew  less  and  less  distinct  in  the  mind's  eye  of  his 
best  lovers ;  and  it  was  pretty  well  understood  that 
he  had  lived  so  long  in  the  sunshine  of  courts  and  the 
fellowship  of  wits,  that  he  was  unfitted  to  return  to 
the  austere  and  somewhat  pedantic  society  of  New 
England.  The  gentlemen  who  now  and  then  went 
home  on  business  could  only  learn  that  he  lived  in 
the  north  of  England,  for  the  most  part,  and  but 
seldom  visited  London.  Fifteen  years  from  the  time 
of  his  departure  passed  away,  and  all  expectation  of 
ever  seeing  him  again  was  abandoned,  when  one  day 
the  ship  '  Speedwell '  was  said  to  be  below,  from  Lon 
don.  This  was  much  more  of  an  event  in  those  days 
than  now,  and  the  talk  of  the  town  for  some  time 
before  and  after  it  occurred.  My  husband  imme 
diately  took  a  boat,  and  visited  the  ship  in  the  roads, 
and  soon  returned  with  the  strange  news  that  John 
Wyborne  was  on  board ;  and  that  was  not  all,  — 
that  he  had  brought  his  wife  with  him.  Here  was  a 
surprise.  His  wife  !  Why,  we  had  never  heard 
that  he  was  married,  or  even  thought  of  such  a 
thing !  Who  was  she  ?  How  did  she  look  ?  Was 
he  much  changed  ?  My  husband,  however,  broke  off 
my  exclamations  and  inquiries  by  the  intelligence 
that  the  returned  prodigal  and  his  English  spouse 
were  to  be  our  guests  until  they  could  take  posses 
sion  of  their  own  house.  This  information  threw 
me  into  a  little  of  a  nutter,  for  I  was  but  a  young 
2 


18  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

housekeeper  then ;  and  though  pleased  with  the  idea 
of  seeing  my  old  playfellow  again,  and  gratified  at 
his  choosing  niy  house  as  his  temporary  home  from 
amongst  the  many  hospitable  roofs  of  friends  and 
relatives  proffered  to  his  acceptance,  still,  I  could 
not  but  feel  a  little  anxious,  lest  the  difference  should 
be  too  marked  between  the  appliances  of  luxury  to 
which  he  had  been  accustomed  at  home,  and  the 
more  humble  though  substantial  comforts  which  I 
could  provide.  And  then  his  wife  —  an  English 
woman,  too  !  However,  there  was  luckily  not  much 
time  for  self-tormenting,  for  it  was  now  one  o'clock, 
and  our  guests  were  expected  before  dark.  You  may 
imagine  how  poor  old  Dinah,  then  a  strapping  wench, 
and  Celia,  who  died  before  your  memory,  bustled 
about,  not  unassisted  by  me,  to  put  the  blue  chamber 
overhead  in  due  order,  and  to  get  all  things  in  readi 
ness  for  the  due  welcome  of  the  coming  guests. 
When  all  things  were  ready,  or  in  train,  and  I  had 
duly  arranged  my  dress,  I  descended  to  the  opposite 
parlor  to  await  their  arrival.  Having  now  nothing 
more  to  do,  I  began  making  myself  work  by  dis 
placing  and  then  re-arranging  all  the  furniture  in  the 
room,  and  now  and  then  giving  an  uncalled-for  poke 
to  the  blazing  fire,  which  Csesar  had  just  lighted  on 
the  hearth ;  for  it  was  one  of  those  delightful  clear, 
cool  days  in  autumn,  when  a  good  fire  of  an  evening 
is  relished  as  a  luxury,  and  not  regarded  as  a  mere 
necessary  of  life,  as  in  winter.  At  last,  about  six 
o'clock,  they  drove  up,  accompanied  by  your  uncle, 


AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  19 

in  the  chariot,  and,  as  soon  as  they  appeared,  I  felt 
that  all  my  previous  twitter  had  been  unnecessary : 
the  first  glance  I  had  of  them  told  me  that. 

"The  fifteen  years  which  had  elapsed  since  I 
last  saw  John  Wy borne  had  transformed  the  slight 
though  graceful  youth  into  an  elegant  man  of  mature 
age;  but  the  hurried  warmth  with  which  he  ap 
proached  and  saluted  me,  and  the  evident  emotion 
which  he  felt  at  the  sight  of  the  familiar  faces  and 
scenes  of  his  youth,  assured  me  that  he  had  passed 
through  the  ordeal  of  a  European  life  without  injury 
to  the  better  feelings  of  his  nature.  He  was  now 
thirty-seven  or  thirty-eight  years  of  age,  but  did  not 
look  a  day  more  than  thirty.  He  was  more  than  six 
feet  tall,  and  of  a  noble  presence.  His  face  beamed 
with  manly  intelligence ;  and  his  dark  eye,  which 
was  at  that  moment  queiiched  with  emotion,  at  calm 
times  sparkled  with  animation,  or  glowed  with  enthu 
siasm.  His  mouth  was  rather  large  than  otherwise, 
but  susceptible  of  the  most  varied  expression,  and 
his  teeth  were  of  the  most  glittering  whiteness. 
But,"  continued  my  aunt  after  a  short  pause,  shaking 
her  head  with  a  pensive  air,  "it  is  hardly  worth 
while  to  describe  so  particularly  what  the  ruins  you 
are  going  to  see  once  were  ;  but  all  who  ever  knew 
John  Wy  borne  in  his  best  estate  will  tell  you  that 
they  have  never  forgotten  the  fascination  of  his 
smile  and  eye." 

"  I  assure  you,  my  dear  aunt,"  I  answered,  my 
curiosity  being  now  fully  awakened,  "  that  you  can- 


20  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

not  be  too  minute  for  me ;  but,  as  time  presses,  pray 
give  me  some  account  of  bis  wife.  Was  sbe  as  fine  a 
creature  as  bis  wife  sbould  have  been  ? " 

"  Indeed  she  was,"  replied  my  aunt :  "  at  least,  as 
far  as  one  could  judge  from  appearance  and  manner, 
she  was  well  worthy  of  her  husband.  But  there  was 
some  mystery  about  her  which  we  never  could  fathom, 
and,  where  there  is  mystery,  there  must  always  be  a 
degree  of  doubt  as  to  the  worthiness  of  the  person, 
especially  of  the  woman,  to  whom  it  attaches.  But, 
poor  thing,  she  did  not  live  long  to  be  the  theme  of 
the  gossiping  small-talk  of  the  herd  of  society,  or 
of  the  anxious  and  legitimate  curiosity  of  her  near 
relatives." 

"  Did  she  indeed  die  so  early  ? "  exclaimed  I.  "  But 
pray  go  on  with  your  story,  for  I  am  impatient  to 
hear  the  end  of  it." 

"That  you  will  soon  hear,"  my  aunt  resumed; 
"  for  there  is  but  little  more  to  tell.  John  Wy borne 
and  his  wife  remained  our  guests  for  about  six  weeks, 
while  the  old  family  mansion  in  King  Street  was  get 
ting  in  readiness  for  them.  This,  time  was  filled  up 
by  a  succession  of  gayeties  in  honor  of  their  arrival. 
Governor  Belcher  entertained  them  at  a  grand  dinner 
at  the  Province  House,  at  which  were  assembled  the 
most  distinguished  of  the  gentlemen  and  ladies  of  the 
town.  All  the  principal  inhabitants  vied  with  each 
other  in -welcoming  the  new-comers  with  splendid 
'hospitalities.  The  fine  autumnal  days  which  were 
free  from  engagements  in  town  we  employed  in 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  21 

scouring  the  country  round,  sometimes  in  the  char 
iot,  and  sometimes  on  horseback,  to  display  the 
charming  scenery  of  New  England,  glowing  with  the 
tints  of  a  New  England  autumn.  On  these  excur 
sions  we  always  stopped  at  some  of  the  gentlemen's 
seats,  which  were  sprinkled  over  the  country  in  every 
direction,  and  the  gates  of  which  always  stood  wide 
open  to  invite  the  passing  friend.  Alas !  too  many 
of  those  hospitable  portals  have  been  closed  by  the 
cruel  Eevolution,  or  passed  into  niggard  hands. 

"  Well,  the  six  weeks  soon  passed  away,  and  our 
guests  left  us,  and  took  possession  of  their  own  housa 
And  a  fine  establishment  it  was,  being  the  result  of 
taste  combined  with  wealth ;  and  yet  there  was  no 
attempt  to  outshine  their  neighbors  :  everything  was 
in  the  very  best  style  of  the  town,  and  nothing  more. 
When  they  were  fairly  fixed  in  their  new  abode, 
they  gathered  around  them  a  circle  of  the  choicest 
society;  and  that  winter  was  a  memorable  one  in 
the  annals  of  anyone  who  was  admitted  within  that 
charmed  circle.  Mr.  Wyborne  gave  a  weekly  dinner 
on  Wednesdays,  which  he  managed  to  make  a  very 
different  affair  from  the  somewhat  stiff  festivities  of 
set  dinners  at  that  time,  or  any  other  time  either,  for 
that  matter. 

"  It  was  observable,  however,  after  the  first  ex 
citement  of  a  new  country  and  the  first  bustle  of 
hospitalities  were  over,  and  they  were  quietly  settled 
down  by  their  own  fireside,  that  Mrs.  Wyborne  was 
but  ill  at  ease.  Her  form  by  degrees  lost  something 


22  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

of  its  symmetrical  roundness,  her  brilliant  complex 
ion  was  exchanged  for  an  alabaster  chilliness,  and 
her  eyes  gradually  lost  much  of  their  peculiar  beauty. 
Her  husband  seemed  but  to  live  for  her,  and  there  was 
no  circumstance  of  watchful  love  and  sedulous  atten 
tion  in  which  he  was  wanting.  She,  however,  drooped 
from  month  to  month  so  palpably  as  to  excite  the 
anxiety  of  her  best  friends  and  the  lively  curiosity 
of  her  common  acquaintance. 

"  One  thing  was  remarkable  enough,  and  that  was 
that  neither  she  nor  her  husband  ever  made  the 
faintest  allusion  to  her  parentage  or  history  previous 
to  their  marriage.  Mr.  Wyborne  so  promptly  and 
dexterously  parried  all  attempts  to  extract  any  in 
formation  on  these  points  from  him,  and  his  wife 
met  them  with  such  a  mournful  embarrassment,  that 
it  was  soon  understood  that  they  were  forbidden 
topics  in  their  presence ;  though  you  may  well  ima 
gine  that  they  were  discussed  in  all  their  bearings, 
known  and  imagined,  when  they  were  absent.  The 
circumstance,  too,  that  she  was  plunged  in  double 
gloom  upon  the  arrival  of  every  fresh  packet  of  letters 
from  Europe,  did  not  tend  to  damp  the  curiosity,  or 
to  extinguish  the  conjectures,  of  those  kind  inquirers 
who  are  more  solicitous  about  the  affairs  of  others 
than  about  their  own." 

"  That  certainly  did  look  rather  suspicious,"  inter 
rupted  I.  "Did  it  not  excite  some  doubts  in  the 
minds  of  the  lovers  of  scandal  as  to  whether  they 
were  married  at  all  ? " 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  23 

"That  scandalous  construction,"  Mrs.  Champion 
replied,  "  would  no  doubt  have  been  put  upon  their 
unaccountable  behavior,  if  Mr.  Wy borne  had  not, 
probably  with  a  foreboding  of  such  a  rumor,  taken 
good  care  to  exhibit  as  an  interesting  autograph  his 
marriage-certificate,  signed  by  the  famous  Dr.  Young, 
who  performed  the  ceremony  in  London  by  special 
license.  Matters  went  on  thus  for  some  months, 
their  house  being  the  centre  of  our  limited  sphere, 
and  almost  always  thronged  with  company,  which 
John  Wy  borne  anxiously  gathered  round  him  in  hopes 
of  dissipating  the  growing  melancholy  of  his  wife. 

"The  winter  wore  on  pleasantly  enough  to  all 
except  the  fated  mistress  of  the  mansion.  John  Wy- 
borne  had  received  his  library,  the  finest  private  one 
in  the  country,  which  he  had  collected  abroad,  and 
had  arranged  it  entirely  to  his  mind.  Many  valuable 
pictures,  a  few  statues  (rather  shocking  to  the  primi 
tive  taste  of  those  days),  and  what  was  to  us  a  rich 
collection  of  articles  of  virtu  arrived,  and  added  to 
the  attractions  of  his  house.  A  superficial  observer 
would  have  pronounced  John  Wyborne  a  happy  man. 
He  had  health,  riches,  taste,  a  well-cultivated  mind, 
a  splendid  library,  warm  friends  of  congenial  tastes, 
and  a  charming  wife.  What  could  man  desire  more? 
Surely  he  had  clutched  the  rare  boon  of  unmixed  fe 
licity.  Alas,  my  dear  boy  !  he  was  no  exception  to 
the  general  doom  which  condemns  man  to  trouble. 
All  the  appliances  of  luxury,  all  the  qualifications  of 
taste,  even  all  the  leisure  and  ample  means  for  gratify- 


24  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS  SINCE. 

ing  a  passion  for  elegant  letters,  bring  no  balm  to  the 
wounds  of  a  gentle  nature,  inflicted  by  the  sight  of  a 
beloved  object  consuming  away  before  the  sight  of 
a  mental  malady  beyond  the  leech's  arts.  Religion 
only,  my  son,  religion  only,  has  consolations  adequate 
to  support  the  soul  under  such  a  burden."  She 
paused,  for  the  memories  of  her  own  sorrows  were 
painfully  rising  to  her  brain,  and  a  phantom  train  of 
unburied  griefs  stretched  in  long  perspective  before 
her  mind's  eye.  She,  however,  never  long  yielded  to 
the  painful  influences  of  the  past,  and  soon  resumed 
the  thread  of  her  narration. 

"  Matters  went  on  thus  till  the  middle  of  February, 
when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wyborne,  having  their  establish 
ment  now  complete,  issued  cards  of  invitation  to  all 
their  acquaintance  to  an  entertainment  given  in 
return  for  the  multitudinous  attentions  which  had 
welcomed  them  on  their  arrival. 

"It  was  bitterly  cold,  a  glittering,  clear  winter's 
night,  which  well  set  off  the  genial  and  brilliant  scene 
within.  Your  uncle  and  I  dined  there,  and  helped 
them  to  oversee  the  last  preparations.  By  six  o'clock 
all  the  company  were  assembled,  comprising  all  the 
town  which  had  any  claim  to  admittance,  from  old 
Dr.  Coleman  down  to  the  freshest  and  prettiest  young 
girls  just  escaped  from  the  nursery. 

"  The  recollection  of  that  scene  is  indelibly  im 
pressed  upon  my  memory  by  the  sudden  change 
which  soon  was  brought  over  it ;  though  there  is  not 
half  a  dozen  of  the  gay  crowd  which  filled  the  rooms 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  25 

that  night  that  now  survive.  What  a  strange  thing 
is  memory !  —  that  I  at  eighty-three  should  at  this 
moment  be,  as  it  were,  in  the  midst  of  a  brilliant  and 
happy  crowd  of  half  a  century  ago,  almost  every  one 
of  which  is  now  in  the  grave,  except  a  few  withered, 
weak  old  men  and  women  just  tottering  on  its  brink. 
I  could  describe  to  you,  if  I  had  time,  and  you  cared 
to  hear  it,  every  dress  in  the  room,  from  the  splendid 
brocade  and  diamonds  of  the  mistress  of  the  house, 
whose  chief  ornament,  however,  was  her  beautiful 
hair,  falling  in  natural  ringlets  over  her  neck  (for 
powder  was  not  then  in  fashion),  and  from  Governor 
Belcher's  black  velvet  coat  and  breeches,  richly 
embroidered  waistcoat,  point-lace  ruffles,  diamond 
buckles,  and  dress  sword,  down  to  the  beautiful  Mary 
Osborne,  now  old  Mrs.  Estridge,  in  her  white  watered 
silk,  and  glistening  high-heeled  shoes,  which  Cinde 
rella  might  have  envied,  seated  on  the  window-seat, 
half  hid  by  the  heavy  damask  curtain,  listening  to 
Ralph  Estridge  (whom  she  not  long  afterwards  mar 
ried),  who  had  just  returned  from  home,  the  image 
of  a  London  petitmaitre,  in  a  peach-bloom  silk  coat 
lined  with  white,  pink  satin  waistcoat  embroidered 
with  gold,  white  satin  breeches  and  white  silk  stock 
ings,  and  a  rapier  with  a  steel  handle,  glittering  like 
diamonds.  Books,  flowers,  paintings,  beautiful  women, 
and  elegant  men,  made  it  a  picture  to  be  recalled  with 
pleasure,  if  it  were  not  for  the  dark  cloud  which  soon 
gathered  over  it. 

"  Well,  everything  went  on  well  enough.   All  were 


26  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS  SINCE. 

animated,  and  most  were  happy.  The  mistress  of  the 
house  looked  like  herself  again;  the  young  people 
made  love ;  their  elders  talked  of  the  prospect  of 
a  war  with  Spain ;  some  of  the  more  austere  of  the 
elder  school  of  New  England  manners  privily  shook 
their  heads  at  the  frightful  havoc  which  luxury  was 
making  in  the  good  old  simplicity  of  the  fathers. 
The  most  rigid  of  the  reverend  divines  and  honorable 
judges,  however,  smoothed  their  stern  features  on 
this  occasion,  and  looked  on  with  complacent  smiles. 
At  about  half-past  eight  supper  was  announced,  and 
we  ascended  to  the  supper-room,  led  by  the  Governor 
and  the  mistress  of  the  house.  It  was  a  beautiful 
spectacle.  The  tables  lavishly  adorned  with  flowers, 
the  luxurious  banquet  served  almost  entirely  on  plate, 
the  lovely  and  graceful  figures  which  were  grouped 
around  the  board  in  the  full  flow  of  youthful  spirits, 
and  the  venerable  forms  and  beneficent  countenances 
of  the  elder  guests  contrasting  with  them,  made  up 
a  scene  of  enchantment  which  I  have  never  seen 
approached  since.  The  master  of  the  feast  seemed  to 
be  doubly  inspired  by  the  spirit  of  the  scene,  and 
never  shone  more  brilliantly,  both  in  his  own  proper 
powers  of  entertainment  and  his  tact  iu  drawing 
out  the  resources  of  others.  My  good  old  friend 
Dr.  Byles,  then  a  young  and  brisk  divine,  was  in  his 
element,  and  often  set  the  table  in  a  roar  with  his 
lively  sallies ;  and  many  a  sharp  encounter  of  wits 
took  place  between  him  and  his  host.  Suppers,  how 
ever,  like  all  other  terrestrial  things,  must  come  to  an 


AN   OCTOGEXARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  27 

end ;  and  after  about  an  hour  and  a  half  had  been 
delightfully  spent  over  the  table,  we  returned  to  the 
parlor.  Soon  afterwards  his  Excellency,  the  clergy, 
and  the  more  dignified  portion  of  the  company,  took 
their  leave,  which  was  the  signal  for  the  appearance 
of  the  violins  and  the  commencement  of  what  was 
then  a  most  unusual  event  —  a  ball.  Mrs.  Wyborne 
opened  the  ball  with  a  minuet  with  Mr.  Hutchinson 
(our  late  governor)  ;  and,  that  prologue  being  happily 
over,  the  country-dances  began  in  good  earnest,  and 
were  kept  up  with  untiring  devotion  till  nearly  four 
o'clock,  when  the  assembly  gradually  melted  away. 
My  husband  and  I,  as  we  had  been  the  first  on  the 
ground,  wrere  the  last  to  leave  it.  As  we  walked 
through  the  deserted  rooms  with  our  charming  host 
ess,  and  observed  with  pleasure  how  the  excitement 
and  success  of  the  evening  had  recalled  her  vanished 
bloom,  and  rekindled  her  faded  eyes,  we  little  thought 
that  the  next  occasion  which  would  summon  us  to 
those  apartments  would  be  her  funeral." 

"Her  funeral !"  I  exclaimed. 

"  Even  so,"  she  mournfully  rejoined,  "  and  so  soon. 
She  was  taken  violently  ill  the  very  next  day,  —  prob 
ably  from  undue  excitement,  and  unusual  fatigue  act 
ing  upon  a  frame  already  debilitated, — and  in  less  than 
a  week  she  was  dead."  She  paused,  and,  as  I  looked 
at  her,  I  saw  that  her  aged  eyes  were  wet  at  thought 
of  the  sad  images  which  her  story  had  recalled. 

"And  how  did  her  husband  bear  the  dreadful  blow  ? " 
I  inquired. 


28  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY   YEARS  SINCE. 

"  His  despair  was  frightful  for  the  first  few  days," 
she  replied.  "He  refused  admission  to  his  best  friends, 
and  would  not  be  comforted.  He  shut  himself  up 
for  hours  with  the  beloved  remains,  and  the  anxious 
and  affectionate  servants  listened  with  dismay  to  the 
tempest  of  grief  which  they  could  hear  raging  within. 
Such  violence  of  sorrow,  however,  could  not  last  long ; 
but,  when  the  first  fierce  paroxysms  were  over,  the 
preternatural  calmness  which  succeeded  was  scarcely 
less  shocking  than  they.  I  can  never  forget,  should  I 
live  a  century  longer,  the  dreadful  change  which  that 
short  week  had  wrought  in  his  face :  death  had  not 
thrown  a  more  gloomy  change  over  the  features  of 
the  beloved  dead,  —  his  cheeks  as  hollow  as  a  ghost's, 
his  eyes  of  a  stony  vacancy,  his  pale  lips  quivering, 
and  his  whole  energies  apparently  bent  upon  a  mighty 
effort  at  calmness. 

"That  funeral  was  worth  a  thousand  homilies. 
There  she  lay  at  length  in  her  coffin,  who,  but  a  little 
week  before,  was  the  charm  of  all  who  saw  or  heard 
her ;  in  the  very  room,  too,  in  which  she  had  led  the 
dance,  and  surrounded  by  most  of  the  very  revellers 
who  had  basked  in  her  radiant  presence.  It  was 
a  chastening  though  grievous  vicissitude,  from  the 
house  of  feasting  to  the  house  of  mourning,  and  from 
the  garments  of  joy  to  the  weeds  of  heaviness.  The 
contrast  of  those  darkened  rooms,  filled  with  mourn 
ful  countenances  and  suits  of  woe,  to  the  glittering 
lights,  splendid  dresses,  flashing  eyes,  and  merry  hearts 
of  the  time  of  their  last  meeting  there,  must  have  in- 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  29 

scribed  an  ineffaceable  lesson  on  the  most  thoughtless 
hearts.  Nothing  broke  the  sepulchral  stillness  but  an 
occasional  sob,  which  would  find  its  way  from  some 
woman's  heart,  or  a  half-suppressed  sigh  from  some 
manly  bosom,  till  at  length  Dr.  Sevvall  rose,  and 
raised  all  our  souls  upon  his  eloquent  prayers  to 
heaven.  When  this  impressive  service  was  over,  the 
last  sad  procession  was  marshalled  to  the  tomb. 

"  It  was  one  of  those  dark,  gloomy  winter's  days, 
when  the  sky  looks  like  a  vault  of  stone  almost  rest 
ing  upon  the  roofs  of  the  houses.  The  ground  was 
covered  with  snow,  and  a  few  flakes  now  and  then 
fell  heavily  down  through  the  still  cold  air.  The  pall 
was  held  by  the  lieutenant-governor  and  five  other 
of  the  principal  gentlemen  of  the  time.  Then  fol 
lowed  the  bereaved  husband,  supported  by  my  hus 
band  and  Dr.  Sewall.  Then  came  the  governor  and 
magistrates,  succeeded  by  along  train  of  relatives  and 
friends  in  the  deepest  mourning.  Behind  followed 
the  family  coach,  the  carriage,  as  well  as  the  servants, 
in  mourning,  then  the  governor's  coach,  and  next  the 
carriages  of  almost  all  the  gentry  of  the  town  and 
country  round.  As  the  black  train  swept  through 
the  streets,  the  common  people,  who  thronged  them 
to  witness  the  spectacle,  all  uncovered  as  we  passed, 
and  showed  none  of  the  levity  which  I  have  some 
times  seen  to  accompany  great  funerals. 

"At  last,  after  making  a  large  circuit,  in  conse 
quence  of  the  numerous  attendance,  we  arrived  at  the 
King's  Chapel  churchyard,  and  all  passed  round  by  the 


30  AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

family  tomb  of  the  Wybornes,  and  took  a  last  look  at 
its  latest  and  fairest  tenant  before  its  ponderous  jaws 
closed  upon  her  forever.  Poor  John  Wyborne  could 
bear  up  under  his  heavy  grief  no  longer,  but  was  sup 
ported  by  his  anxious  friends,  almost  insensible,  to  his 
coach.  The  rest  of  the  melancholy  attendants  stood 
reverently  by  as  the  mourner  was  borne  along,  and 
then  dispersed,  and,  entering  the  coaches  which  were 
in  waiting,  were  slowly  rolled  to  their  various  homes. 
"  The  gloom  of  this  event  hung  over  the  town  for 
all  the  remainder  of  the  season  and  for  months  after 
wards.  It  seemed  as  if  every  family  was  mourning 
over  some  household  death.  The  difference  which  it 
made  to  me,  you  may  easily  imagine.  It  was  almost 
the  first  severe  loss  of  the  kind  that  I  had  ever  en 
countered  :  Heaven  knows  it  was  not  the  last !  "  After 
a  short  pause,  she  resumed,  "  John  Wyborne  contin 
ued  throughout  the  spring  in  a  most  pitiable  state: 
the  violence  of  his  first  grief  was  succeeded  by  an 
apathetic  listlessness  from  which  nothing  could 
arouse  him.  He  formed  a  plan  for  returning  again  to 
Europe,  which  was  encouraged  by  his  friends  as  the 
medicine  most  likely  to  be  effectual ;  but  he  did  not 
seem  to  retain  enough  of  the  energy  with  which  he 
used  to  overflow  to  make  the  necessary  preparations. 
At  last,  when  May  was  well  advanced,  my  husband 
proposed  to  him  to  visit  Sanfield,  the  town  in  the  Old 
Colony  where  his  mother  had  spent  the  last  years  of 
her  life  after  her  marriage  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Selleck 
and  where  a  considerable  estate  was  going  to  decay 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  31 

for  want  of  the  eye  of  the  master.  As  this  excursion 
did  not  involve  much  expenditure  of  resolution  or 
trouble,  Mr.  Wyborne  consented  to  accompany  Mr. 
Champion  to  the  scene  of  his  mother's  later  years. 
It  was  a  most  exquisite  spring  day  when  they  went 
down,  when  the  country  was  clad  in  its  softest  and 
freshest  green,  and  the  fields  were  white  with  apple- 
blossoms,  and  the  delicious  air  seemed  as  if  it  might 
have  been  a  balm  even  for  a  broken  heart. 

"Mr.  Wyborne  seemed  to  feel  the  benefit  of  the 
change  of  place  almost  immediately;  and  the  appear 
ance  of  his  house  and  grounds,  and  of  the  village  in 
its  vicinity,  seemed  to  strike  his  fancy.  The  house, 
which  I  will  not  describe,  as  you  will  soon  see  it,  was 
somewhat  the  worse  for  want  of  inhabitants  for  a 
number  of  years,  since  the  decease  of  'his  reverend 
step- father ;  but  the  avenue  of  fine  elms  and  grove, 
which  sheltered  it  from  the  sea,  had  grown  up  pros 
perously,  though  untrimmed  and  neglected.  The 
garden  was  something  like  that  of  the  sluggard,  to  be 
sure  ;  and  the  sun-dial  in  its  centre  was  almost  hid  by 
nettles  and  weeds,  and  the  wall  was  in  many  places 
broken  down,  and  the  fish-pond  was  almost  choked  up 
with  rubbish.  I  should  have  told  you  that  the  new 
part  of  the  house  was  built,  the  trees  planted,  and  the 
grounds  laid  out,  by  an  English  Church  clergyman 
of  fortune,  who  emigrated  to  this  country  about  the 
beginning  of  the  century,  and  who,  finding  small 
encouragement  in  his  clerical  capacity,  had  employed 
himself  in  the  business  and  pleasures  of  a  country 


32  AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

life,  and  of  whose  heirs  Mrs.  Wyborne  had  purchased 
it  on  her  second  marriage. 

"There  was  enough  of  native  luxuriant  beauty 
about  the  place  to  captivate  the  good  taste  of  its 
owner ;  while  there  was  an  air  of  neglect  and  desola 
tion  about  it  which  seemed  to  suit  the  present  melan 
choly  mood  of  his  mind.  My  husband  was  well 
pleased  to  hear  him  avow  his  intention  of  putting  the 
place  to  rights,  and  making  it  his  residence  for  a  part 
of  the  year.  He  encouraged  him  in  his  plan,  and 
recommended  that  no  time  should  be  lost  in  putting 
it  into  execution.  Accordingly  they  hunted  up  a 
farmhouse  in  the  neighborhood,  whose  owners  were 
willing  to  take  him  and  his  servant  in  until  the  old 
house  could  be  made  habitable.  Rejoiced  to  have 
been  the  means  of  providing  a  healthful  occupation 
for  his  friend's  sick  mind,  my  husband  returned  to 
town,  expecting  that  he  would  follow  in  about  a  fort 
night.  A  fortnight  elapsed,  and  a  month,  and  a  year, 
and  yet  he  tarried. 

"He  left  his  house  in  town  for  a  couple  of  days, 
perhaps  a  week ;  and  now  almost  half  a  century  has 
passed  away  since  then,  and  he  has  never  once  re- 
crossed  its  threshold,  or  revisited  his  native  town. 
He  had  found  the  first  comfort  which  his  wounded 
spirit  had  known  among  the  old  trees  and  green 
meadows  of  his  new  home  and  by  the  side  of  the 
ocean  which  washed  his  estate  less  than  half  a  mile 
from  the  house ;  and  he  felt  for  them  the  love  of  a 
mourner  for  the  tried  friends  of  his  affliction.  Noth- 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SIN'CE.  33 

ing,  however,  was  further  from  his  intention  than  mak 
ing  that  sequestered  place  his  permanent  abode.  But 
the  first  summer  and  autumn  were  insensibly  wasted 
away  in  the  pleasant  tasks  of  bringing  order  out  of  the 
chaos  of  his  grounds,  and  of  restoring  to  the  old  man 
sion  the  comfort  and  elegance  of  which  time  and  ne 
glect  had  stripped  it.  Then,  just  as  winter  set  in,  his 
house  was  ready  for  his  occupation,  and  he  could  not 
bear  to  leave  this  new  home,  which  was  invested  only 
with  happy  associations,  for  that  roof  which  was  over 
shadowed  by  the  gloom  of  his  mighty  sorrow,  and 
under  which  he  would  be  haunted  at  every  turn  by  the 
ghosts  of  his  buried  joys.  So  the  winter  passed  away 
and  when  spring  returned  he  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  make  this  his  chief  residence,  and  sent  for  his 
library.  "When  winter  again  arrived,  his  attachment 
to  the  place  had  strengthened,  and  he  determined  to 
spend  it  as  he  did  the  last.  In  this  way  his  habits 
of  life  became  gradually  fixed  ;  his  love  for  his  new 
home,  and  his  disinclination  to  return  to  his  old  one, 
increased  with  every  year ;  and  so  his  prime  of  man 
hood  and  his  green  old  age  have  worn  away  in  that 
retirement." 

"  Had  he  any  society  in  his  solitude  ? "  I  inquired. 

"  But  little  in  his  immediate  neighborhood,"  my 
aunt  replied,  "except  the  clergyman  and  one  or  two 
country  gentlemen.  But  for  many  years,  during  the 
summers  and  autumns,  he  had  no  lack  of  company 
from  Boston  :  his  house  was  scarcely  ever  empty,  at 
those  times,  of  his  old  friends  and  companions.  Your 
3 


34  AN   OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

uncle  and  I  always  paid  him  at  least  one  visit  a  year, 
as  I  told  you  before,  until  I  gave  up  the  coach  upon 
his  death.  By  degrees,  however,  as  his  old  friends 
died  off,  his  younger  ones  grew  less  frequent  in  their 
visits.  And  then  the  Revolution  came  in  to  confound 
all  old  friendships  ;  so  that  for  a  good  many  years  he 
lias  been  thrown  almost  entirely  on  his  own  resources. 
I  am  told,  however,  by  some  old  friends  who  are  still 
constant  to  him,  that  he  has  acquired  no  cynicism 
from  neglect,  and  gathered  no  rust  from  solitude,  but 
is  still,  in  his  manners,  dress,  and  way  of  living,  a  fine 
relic  of  the  thoroughbred  gentleman  of  the  middle  of 
this  century." 

The  good  old  lady  here  ceased.  I  warmly  thanked 
her  for  her  story,  and  assured  her  that  it  had  increased 
my  curiosity  to  make  the  personal  acquaintance  of 
its  hero  a  hundred-fold. 

"I  am  glad  you  are  going  to  see  him,"  she  resumed; 
"  for  you  may  never  chance  to  meet  with  exactly  such 
another  specimen  of  the  old  school  again :  at  least  I 
do  not  know  where  his  fellow  is  to  be  found." 

At  this  point  we  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance 
of  Dinah  with  the  tea-things,  which  brought  us  down 
from  our  high  converse  about  other  days  to  a  sense  of 
present  realities.  After  my  good  aunt  had  dispensed 
the  fragrant  infusion  in  china's  earth,  the  sun  began 
to  remind  rue,  by  the  peculiar  mellowness  of  his  light 
among  the  leaves  of  the  trees,  that  it  was  time  for  me 
to  set  forth  on  my  return  to  my  rooms.  My  horse 
being  accordingly  brought  round  by  Ccesar,  I  affec- 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  35 

tionately  saluted  my  dear  old  friend,  and,  receiving 
from  her  a  needless  injunction  not  to  fail  to  make  my 
visit  to  Sanfield,  I  mounted  my  nag,  and  rode  briskly 
back  to  my  home  among  classic  shades. 


CHAPTER  IL 

MY  aunt's  history  had  made  so  strong  an  impres 
sion  upon  my  fancy,  that  I  became  as  impa 
tient  for  the  time  of  my  visit  to  arrive  as  I  had 
formerly  been  ingenious  to  invent  excuses  for  put 
ting  it  off.  My  strong  curiosity  to  see  the  subject  of 
her  narration,  actually  sometimes  inspired  a  kind  of 
nervous  apprehension  that  something  would  happen 
to  prevent  my  visit,  that  I  might  be  summoned  in 
some  other  direction,  or  that  the  good  old  gentleman 
might  in  the  interval  exchange  his  quiet  home  for 
the  vault  of  his  ancestors.  No  such  impediment, 
however,  occurred.  The  autumn  months  melted 
gradually  away,  and  at  last  brought  round  the  an 
nual  festival  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers.  I  obtained 
permission  to  leave  Cambridge  a  day  sooner  than  the 
regular  holidays  began  in  order  that  I  might  have  a 
good  three-days'  visit,  which  I  thought  little  enough 
for  my  purpose ;  the  reverend  president  giving  a 
ready  assent  to  my  application  when  he  understood 
its  object,  for  Colonel  Wyborne  was  his  old  and 
valued  friend.  He  intrusted  to  me  a  packet  con 
taining  some  sermons  of  his  which  had  been  recently 
printed,  as  well  as  a  verbal  message  of  friendly  com 
pliments  ;  and  having  instructed  me  to  call  upon 


AN   OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  37 

him  on  my  return,  with  an  account  of  his  excellent 
friend,  "he  shook  his  ambrosial  curls  (of  his  wig), 
and  gave  the  nod,"  which  was  the  signal  for  my 
departure. 

I  louted  low,  and  withdrew,  inly  pleased  at  the  suc 
cessful  issue  of  an  interview  which  was  then  consid 
ered  as  the  most  appalling  of  human  ordeals. 

On  Tuesday  morning  of  the  last  week  in  Novem 
ber,  I  bestrode  the  very  indifferent  beast  which  en 
joyed  the  somewhat  unenviable  distinction  of  being 
the  best  livery  horse  in  Cambridge,  and  set  forth, 
like  Yorick,  with  (not  quite)  a  half-dozen  shirts  and 
a  black  pair  of  silk  breeches  in  my  portmanteau, 
on  my  long-looked-for  excursion.  Contrary  to  estab 
lished  usage  in  such  cases,  the  day  was  fine  and  the 
roads  excellent.  It  was  one  of  those  delicious,  mild, 
soft  days  which  sometimes  occur  at  the  very  close  of 
autumn,  and  seem  to  breathe  a  second  spring  in  the 
very  presence  of  winter  himself ;  and  to  desire 

"  Upon  old  Hyem's  chin  and  icy  beard 
To  hang  a  chaplet  of  young  summer  buds." 

As  I  rode  over  Brighton  bridge  upon  a  steed  which 
had  not  yet  got  over  the  stimulus  of  his  double  allow 
ance  of  oats,  with  my  back  turned  upon  my  nursing 
mother,  whose  cares  are  but  too  often  felt  to  be  only 
vexatious  till  it  is  too  late  to  profit  by  them,  and  a 
week  before  me  urihaunted  by  the  apparitions  of 
dead  authors  and  living  tutors,  I  respired  the  bland 
air  with  a  joyous  feeling  of  young  life,  and  felt  as  if 


38  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

there  were  no  such  thing  as  pain  or  trouble  in  the 
world.  I  trotted  along  the  pleasant  winding  roads 
through  Roxbury,  Brookline,  and  Dorchester,  with  a 
heart  ready  and  willing  to  receive  pleasure  from 
every  object  which  struck  the  senses.  The  trees 
were  almost  bare,  and  the  earth  was  sear  and  brown  ; 
yet  the  yellow  light  of  the  rejoicing  sun  seemed 
almost  as  beautiful  as  the  leafy  glories  of  their  sum 
mer's  estate.  The  farmhouses,  with  their  roofs  slop 
ing  to  the  ground ;  the  sheds  laden  with  the  golden 
pumpkins,  prophetic  of  pies  to  come ;  the  corn-barns 
with  the  yellow  ears  peeping  out  from  between  the 
interstices  of  the  sides  ;  the  wood-pile,  suggestive 
of  images  of  comfort  and  merry  winter  nights;  the 
picturesque  well-pole,  not  yet  supplanted  by  the 
prosaic  pump  of  these  utilitarian  days,  —  all  were 
fruitful  of  happy  thoughts  and  pleasant  day-dreams. 
As  I  ascended  Milton  Hill,  I  saw  for  the,  first  time 
the  magnificent  prospect  it  displays,  and  checked  my 
horse  on  its  summit  to  admire  the  wide  sweep  of 
country,  the  tufted  hills,  the  winding  river,  and  the 
glorious  burst  of  ocean,  with  here  and  there  a  white 
sail  gliding  akmg  its  blue  surface,  which  it  com 
mands.  On  the  other  side  of  the  road  I  saw  the 
charming  villa  of  Governor  Hutchinson,  with  the  fine 
plantations  he  had  made,  and  the  trees  under  which 
he  had  hoped  his  latter  days  would  have  declined 
in  peace ;  and  I  felt  that  his  exile  from  this  beloved 
and  lovely  spot  was  punishment  enough  for  his  politi 
cal  offences  as  a  public  man.  It  is  said,  and  I  can 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YKAI1S   SINCE.  39 

well  believe  it  to  be  true,  that  he  died  of  Milton  Hill. 
It  must  have  been  a  bitter  thing  to  have  revisited  its 
beloved  shades,  and  gazed  on  its  gorgeous  view  in 
the  visions  of  the  night,  and  then  to  have  awoke  a 
neglected,  impoverished,  despised  exile,  forever  sepa 
rated  from  the  spot  of  earth  which  was  dearer  to  him 
than  all  the  world  beside. 

As  I  wound  farther  into  the  country,  I  often  met, 
jogging  cheerfully  along,  hale  ruddy  countrymen  ; 
some  young,  some  gray-haired,  presiding  over  wagons 
groaning  under  the  weight  of  the  victims  which  had 
been  sacrificed  against  the  coming  festival.  Heca 
tombs  of  beeves,  ghostlike  forms  of  turkeys,  partridges 
never  again  to  rise  on  whirring  wing,  ducks  fated  to 
swim  no  more  save  in  their  own  gravy,  passed  in 
long  procession,  like  the  shadowy  train  of  Banquo's 
descendants.  As  I  passed  through  the  villages  in 
my  way,  they  had  all  a  sort  of  pleasant  holiday  look. 
The  labors  of  the  year  seemed  to  be  over,  and  the 
inhabitants  to  be  assisting  one  another  to  do  nothing 
in  the  most  neighborly  manner  possible.  The  boys, 
let  loose  from  school,  were  playing  football  with  all 
the  energy  which  that  manly  game  demands,  but 
stopping  in  their  sport  to  look  at  the  passing  stranger, 
and  salute  him,  according  to  the  good  old  custom, 
with  uncouth  demonstrations  of  respect. 

At  noon,  I  bated  from  my  journey,  though  bent  on 
speed,  and  drew  the  rein  at  the  door  of  what  was  to 
me  a  most  promising  hostelry,  being  a  farmhouse  of 
the  oldest  description  which  New  England  affords, 


40  AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

with  its  jutting  second  story  as  a  "  coigne  of  vantage  " 
against  the  Indians,  its  diamond  panes  of  glass  set  in 
lead,  and  its  window- frames  opening  inwards  like 
folding-doors  ;  and  which  was  proclaimed  to  be  a 
place  of  entertainment  for  man  and  beast  by  a  most 
truculent  portrait  of  General  Washington,  which 
hung  in  chains  from  a  superb  old  elm  before  the 
door.  I  soon  learnt  that  the  hospitable  proprietor 
was  no  less  a  person  than  Captain  Crake,  who  had 
seen  hard  service  both  in  the  old  French  war  and  in 
the  recent  struggle  for  independence.  The  gallant 
captain  did  me  the  honor  to  invite  himself  to  dine 
with  me,  and  I  found  him  an  entertaining  specimen 
of  a  large  class  of  our  revolutionary  officers,  who  had 
superinduced  the  military  frankness  and  ease  of  one 
conversant  with  camps  upon  the  sturdy  independent 
yeoman  of  the  Old  Colony.  While  I  patiently  exer 
cised  my  molars  and  incisors  in  an  almost  hopeless 
attempt  to  subdue  a  beefsteak,  which  seemed  as  if  it 
might  have  been  ravished  from  the  yet  living  flank 
of  the  sire  of  Abyssinian  herds,  I  quite  won  the  heart 
of  my  worthy  landlord  by  the  interest  which  I  took 
in  his  descriptions  of  his  campaigns  and  of  the  well- 
fought  fields  which  he  had  seen.  He  exhibited  with 
much  satisfaction  the  honorable  scar  in  his  arm 
which  he  had  received  at  the  storming  of  Stony 
Point,  and  the  sword  which  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette 
had  presented  to  him,  and  his  insignia  of  the  Cin 
cinnati.  He  also  displayed  a  richly  chased  gold 
watch,  which  had  been  given  to  him  by  a  French 


AN   OCTOGENAKY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  41 

nobleman  whom  he  had  made  the  captive  of  his  bow 
and  of  his  spear  in  Canada,  I  think  at  the  taking  of 
Fort  Niagara,  as  a  token  of  his  sense  of  the  humanity 
and  courteous  treatment  which  he  had  received  at 
the  hands  of  his  captor.  During  his  long  term  of 
service  he  had  associated  on  terms  of  equality  with 
gentlemen  of  much  higher  rank  in  society  than  he 
had  been  accustomed  to  know,  except  at  a  humble 
distance ;  and  he  felt  the  loss  of  the  company  of  his 
old  companions-in-arms  most  severely  after  the  army 
was  disbanded.  He  had,  as  a  resource  against  ennui, 
rather  than  any  expectation  of  gain,  hoisted  the  head 
of  his  beloved  chief  before  his  paternal  door  to  invite 
the  passing  guest ;  and  the  neighboring  gentry  always 
made  it  a  point  to  stop  at  the  captain's  door  as  they 
passed,  and  gratify  the  veteran  by  treating  him  as 
one  who  had  bravely  fought  his  way  to  an  equality 
with  themselves  at  a  time  when  the  distinctions  of 
rank  were  still  strongly  marked.  I  subsequently 
cultivated  the  acquaintance  of  the  erect  old  man,  and 
extracted  from  him  many  a  curious  fragment  of  pub 
lic  and  private  history.  But  my  horse  is  again  at 
the  door,  and  I  must  return  the  military  salute  of 
mine  host  with  what  grace  I  may,  and  hasten  onward, 
for  I  have  no  time  to  lose. 

My  horse,  who,  during  the  course  of  his  long  and 
active  life,  had  done  little  else  than  tread  and  retread 
the  weary  round  of  what  were  in  those  days  entitled 
the  great  and  the  little  squares,  which  were  certain 
roads  encompassing  Boston  at  a  greater  and  less  dis- 


42  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

tance,  began  to  show  unequivocal  symptoms  of  weari 
ness  and  disgust  at  my  eccentric  orbit.  No  logic, 
either  of  whip  or  spur,  could  convince  him  of  the 
propriety  of  advancing  at  a  more  rapid  rate  than  a 
sort  of  shamble  between  a  walk  and  a  pace.  To 
crown  all,  he  managed  to  cast  a  shoe  at  the  most 
inconvenient  place  possible,  so  that  I  had  to  lead 
him  for  a  matter  of  four  miles  before  I  could  find 
a  blacksmith.  All  these  untoward  circumstances 
combined  to  make  my  approach  to  the  end  of  my 
journey  as  gradual  as  might  well  be.  Accordingly, 
when  the  sun  set,  as  sober  suns  will  do,  at  a  little 
after  five  o'clock,  he  left  me  about  five  miles  from 
Sanfield.  Now  this  distance  I  could  have  soon  anni 
hilated  if  I  had  been  unincumbered  with  my  imprac 
ticable  companion ;  but,  as  it  was,  I  was  obliged  to 
do  as  wiser  men  have  been  obliged  in  like  cases  to 
do  before  me, 

"  And  will  again,  pretend  they  ne'er  so  wise," 

even  to  succumb  to  the  wayward  humor  of  my  ill- 
conditioned  helpmate,  and  to  console  myself  with 
cursing  the  evil  hour  in  which  I  formed  the  ill-starred 
union. 

The  day,  which  had  been  cloudless  as  a  midsum 
mer's  noon,  began,  before  the  sun  went  down,  to  be 
overcast  with  black  clouds,  portentous  of  showers. 
A  piercing  north-east  wind  reigned  in  the  stead  of 
the  vernal  breeze  of  the  morning,  and  whirled  the 
brown  leaves  in  rustling  eddies  like  a  miniature 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  43 

tornado.  As  I  stumHed  onwards  upon  my  journey, 
the  twilight  faded  away,  and  was  followed  by  a 
moonless  night.  I  could  scarcely  distinguish  my 
road,  which  seemed  to  grow  longer  and  longer,  under 
my  feet.  In  something  more  than  two  hours,  how 
ever,  I  was  cheered  by  the  ruddy  blaze  of  a  black 
smith's  forge,  which  gave  me  assurance  of  being  near 
a  village.  Upon  reaching  the  smithy,  I  inquired  of 
the  son  of  St.  Dominic  as  to  my  whereabouts,  and 
was  informed'  that  I  was  on  the  confines  of  the  village 
of  Sanfield,  and  had  ingeniously  managed  to  take 
a  wrong  turning  a  few  miles  back,  which  had  brought 
me  more  than  a  mile  beyond  my  destination  by  a 
wrong  route.  Xothing  remained  for  me  now  but  to 
take  the  instructions  of  the  worthy  smith,  and  turn 
my  horse's  reluctant  head  in  the  opposite  direction, 
and,  having  been  put  in  the  right  way,  to  pursue  it 
till  I  should  come  to  the  high  trees,  which  were  the 
mark  of  my  journey's  end. 

My  nag,  contrary  to  my  expectation,  seemed  to 
snuff  afar  off  the  comfortable  provender  which 
awaited  him,  and  laid  his  feet  to  the  ground  with  a 
speed  he  had  not  put  forth  since  the  morning.  As 
I  advanced,  I  earnestly  bent  my  eyes  into  the  thick 
darkness  on  my  right  hand,  in  hopes  of  distinguish 
ing  the  friendly  branches  which  were  to  point  me 
to  the  termination  of  my  weary  way.  I  looked 
with  the  more  earnestness  as  a  few  drops  of  a  cold 
November  rain  began  to  fall,  and  to  threaten  no 
inconsiderable  addition  to  the  discomfort  of  my 


44  AN  OCTOGENAEY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

benighted  estate.  At  last,  however,  as  I  descended  a 
considerable  hill,  I  heard  the  sough  of  the  blast  stir 
ring  the  boughs  of  many  lofty  trees  on  my  right 
hand,  and  could  perceive  lights  glimmering  through 
the  darkness  at  a  considerable  distance.  These  I  at 
once  knew  must  be  the  indications  of  the  hospitable 
habitation  I  sought.  The  pitchy  blackness  of  the 
night  compelled  me  to  dismount,  and  grope  my  way 
to  the  fence,  and  along  it,  in  search  of  the  approach  to 
the  house.  This  I  felt  to  be  prudent  as  I  heard  the 
hoarse  murmur  of  what  seemed  to  be  a  considerable 
stream  near  me.  I  groped  in  vain,  however,  for  the 
carriage-road;  and  could  find  but  a  small  gate,  in 
tended  only  for  human  ingress,  about  opposite  where 
the  little  candle  threw  its  beams  into  the  night,  like 
"  a  good  deed  in  a  naughty  world." 

In  this  distress  I  had  nothing  left  for  it  but  to  tie 
my  horse  to  the  fence,  and  follow  the  adventure  on 
foot.  Entering  the  gate,  I  proceeded  onwards,  with 
the  withered  leaves  crackling  under  rny  feet,  and  the 
wind  sighing  among  the  bare  branches  over  my  head. 
The  rain  now  began  to  patter  in  more  frequent  drops 
upon  the  dead  leaves  over  which  I  walked,  with  the 
peculiar  clattering  noise  which  is  delightful  to  listen 
to  before  a  comfortable  fire,  but  less  musical  to  the 
ear  of  an  amateur  of  Nature's  harmonies,  when  he  is 
•  behind  the  scenes  and  in  the  midst  of  the  performers. 
As  I  neared  my  hoped-for  haven  of  rest,  I  was 
saluted  by  the  fierce  barking  of  a  dog,  who,  if  his 
size  were  answerable  to  his  voice,  might  be  a  match 


AN   OCTOGENARY  FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  45 

for  the  shaggy  "Dog  of  Darkness"  himself.  Now> 
however  sweet  it  may  be 

"  To  hear  the  watch-dog's  honest  bark 
Bay  deep-mouthed  welcome  as  we  draw  near  home" 

I  put  it  to  anyone  who  has  tried  the  experiment, 
whether  it  be  an  equally  delightful  sound  as  we 
approach  a  strange  house  of  a  dark  night.  I  venture 
to  say  that  the  stoutest  hearted  despiser  of  dogs  and 
devils  would  feel  some  misgivings  under  such  cir 
cumstances,  lest  his  fate  might  be  at  least  as  hard  as 
that  of  the  noble  bard  just  quoted,  who  was  welcomed 
on  his  return  to  Newstead  by  having 

"  His  Argus  bite  him  by  the  breeches." 

It  would  not  do,  however,  to  be  daunted  by  this  new 
lion  in  my  path,  which  I  afterward  found  was 
chained,  like  the  one  in  Pilgrim's  Progress:  so  on 
I  fared,  like  any  errant  knight,  resolved  at  all  haz 
ards  to  achieve  my  adventure.  The  house  seemed 
to  recede  as  I  advanced,  and  I  thought  that  I  had 
measured  a  good  mile  before  I  reached  it :  it  was,  in 
fact,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  As,  however,  there 
is  an  end  to  the  disagreeables  as  well  as  to  the  agree- 
ables  of  life,  I  at  last  stood  in  the  porch,  wet,  hungry, 
and  tired,  and  made  the  brazen  knocker  give  clam 
orous  notice  of  my  presence.  The  door  was  soon 
opened  by  an  elderly  woman  of  respectable  appear 
ance,  of  whom  I  inquired  if  this  was  Colonel  Wy- 
borne's  house,  and  whether  he  were  at  home  ;  to  both 
which  interrogatories  I  received  the  expected  affirma- 


46  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

tive,  together  with  an  invitation  to  walk  in.  The 
^ood  woman,  eying  me  attentively,  then  said,  in  the 
negative-affirmative  form  in  which  inquiries  are  gen 
erally  put  in  New  England,  — 

"  Sure  you  are  not  the  Mr.  Dalzell  whom  the 
Colonel  expects  from  college,  are  you  ? " 

I  assured  her  of  my  confident  belief  in  my  identity 
with  the  individual  in  question;  upon  which  she 
replied,  — 

"  Well,  the  Colonel  will  be  right  glad  to  see  you, 
sir,  though  he  did  not  expect  you  till  to-morrow,  or 
he  would  have  sent  the  chariot  to  meet  you  at 
Captain  Crake's.  But  how  did  you  get  here,  sir? 
You  surely  haven't  walked  all  the  way  ? " 

I  gave  the  information  desired;  upon  which  she 
promised  to  send  the  coachman  for  my  horse,  and  re 
quested  me  to  walk  into  the  parlor,  where  the  Colonel 
was  sitting.  She  accordingly  threw  open  the  door  on 
the  right  as  I  entered  the  hall,  and  ushered  me  into 
an  apartment,  the  lightsome  cheerfulness  of  which 
was  enhanced  by  the  chilly,  wet,  famished  condition 
in  which  I  entered  it.  The  master  of  the  house, 
however,  was  not  there  ;  though  the  chair  drawn  to 
the  fire,  the  small  mahogany  table,  covered  with  a 
green  cloth,  and  sustaining  a  massive  silver  candle 
stick  and  wax  candle,  and  the  second  volume  of 
Sir  William  Temple's  works  in  folio,  showed  that  he 
had  not  been  long  absent.  The  housekeeper  then 
left  the  room  by  the  door  by  which  we  had  entered, 
for  the  purpose  of  finding  him,  and  announcing  my 


AN   OCTOGEXARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  47 

arrival.  The  first  object  which  attracted  my  atten 
tion  was  the  noble  fire  which  roared  up  the  chimney, 
to  which  I  incontinently  rushed,  and  bathed  my 
shivering  frame  in  the  genial  warmth.  When  I  had 
imbibed  as  much  caloric  as  my  forward  man  re 
quired,  I  turned  what  Lord  Castlereagh  used  to  call 
"  a  back-front "  to  the  generous  blaze,  and  took  a 
survey  of  the  apartment.  The  walls  were  panelled 
in  oak,  with  a  gilt  moulding,  now  a  little  tarnished. 
Between  the  two  windows  opposite  was  a  large  mir 
ror,  framed  in  mahogany,  with  gilt  sconces  for  lights. 
Under  it  was  a  table  covered  with  a  rich  Turkey 
rug,  which  was  well  piled  with  books  and  papers, 
and  beneath  which  appeared  a  couple  of  small  globes. 
The  closed  window-shutters  were  well-nigh  concealed, 
as  well  as  the  high  window-seats  of  oak,  by  the 
depending  folds  of  the  crimson  damask  curtains. 
Between  the  two  windows  on  my  right  hand  was  a 
card-table  of  mahogany,  black  with  time,  clasping 
heavy  balls  in  its  clawed  feet.  On  the  side  of  the 
room  opposite  to  the  card-table  was  a  most  luxurious 
easy-chair  —  a  fit  cradle  for  declining  age  —  and  a 
footstool,  both  covered  with  chintz  protecting  the 
crimson  damask,  which  on  occasions  of  importance 
was  revealed,  to  match  the  curtains.  In  the  nook  on 
the  side  of  the  fireplace  answering  to  the  door  by 
which  I  entered  was  a  secretary,  its  looking-glass 
doors  opening  over  what  seemed  to  be  a  chest  of 
dra were,  but  which,  when  drawn  out,  formed  a  writ 
ing-desk  with  pigeon-holes  innumerable.  Above  the 


48  AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

looking-glass  doors  were  three  smaller  drawers; 
the  inner  one  with  fluted  rays  diverging  from  the 
middle  of  its  lowest  side  to  its  edges;  the  whole 
crowned  by  a  sort  of  pyramidal  pediment,  the  pol 
ished  wood  reflecting  the  surrounding  objects  like 
marble,  and  the  brass  handles  glistering  like  gold. 
A  thick  Turkey  carpet  covered  the  floor,  and  a  suffi 
cient  number  of  inviting  chairs,  with  carved  frames 
and  well-stuffed  seats,  expanded  their  arms  to  wel 
come  the  weary  guest.  It  may  be  readily  conceived 
that  I  took  in  this  inventory  in  less  than  a  tithe  of 
the  time  it  has  taken  to  recount  it,  and  had  again 
turned  to  the  blazing  hearth.  The  chimney  was 
one  of  those  which  men  built  when  the  forests  grew 
up  to  their  very  doors,  and  it  was  their  ambition  to 
consume  them  as  rapidly  as  possible.  The  fireplace 
was  encircled  with  my  favorite  Dutch  tiles,  and  sur 
mounted  by  a  capacious  mantel-piece,  which,  as  well 
as  the  panels  over  it,  were  covered  with  particular 
care. 

While  I  was  thus  engaged  in  surveying  these 
images  of  comfort,  and  basking  in  the  blessed  warmth, 
I  heard  a  slight  noise  behind  me,  and,  turning  sud 
denly  round,  I  saw  before  me  my  venerable  host, 
who  had  just  entered  by  a  door  which  I  have  not 
mentioned,  opening  from  the  side  on  the  left  of  the 
fireplace  as  I  stood  with  my  back  to  it.  The  appari 
tion  was  one  which  might  have  startled  one  who 
might  be  taken  by  surprise.  His  face  was  furrowed 
with  wrinkles,  his  teeth  gone,  his  eyebrows  bushy, 


AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  49 

but  of  a  snowy  whiteness,  under  which  his  eyes 
looked  out  with  a  keenness  and  brilliancy  which 
seemed  almost  preternatural.  His  head  was  covered 
with  a  crimson  velvet  cap  with  a  silk  tassel  in  the 
centre,  under  which  he  wore  a  linen  cap,  turned  up 
in  front  and  at  the  sides  over  the  velvet  one,  of  the 
purest  white.  He  had  on  a  branched-damask  dress 
ing  gown,  pearl-colored  silk  breeches,  a  large  flapped 
waistcoat  of  the  same,  embroidered  with  silk,  white 
silk  stockings,  and  black  velvet  slippers;  his  neck 
encircled  by  a  white  stock  clasped  behind  with  a 
large  paste  buckle.  In  his  hand  he  bore  the  fellow 
of  the  silver  candlestick  upon  the  stand  before  men 
tioned  ;  and  under  his  other  arm  he  carried  the  mate 
to  the  volume  of  Temple's  works  which  I  have  said 
lay  open  upon  it. 

It  was  plain  that  my  arrival  had  not  been  an 
nounced  to  him,  as,  indeed,  it  hardly  could  have 
been  in  the  minute  or  two  which  had  elapsed  since 
my  entrance ;  and  he  stood  for  a  moment  gazing  at 
me  from  beneath  his  shaggy  eyebrows  with  an  ear 
nestness  which  had  the  expression  of  sternness  and 
almost  of  austerity.  I  immediately  advanced,  and, 
relieving  him  of  his  folio  and  candlestick,  introduced 
myself  as  his  dilatory  cousin,  who  had  at  last  re 
deemed  the  promise  which  his  parents  had  made  for 
him,  of  a  visit  to  their  much-honored  relative.  By 
the  time  I  had  delivered  myself  to  this  effect,  and 
had  deposited  his  honorable  load  upon  the  stand,  he 
had  fully  recovered  himself,  and,  with  a  countenance 
4 


50  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

beaming  with  affectionate  pleasure  and  hospitable 
joy,  he  took  both  my  hands,  and  warmly  pressing 
them,  he  bade  me  a  most  cordial  welcome  to  his 
house,  adding,  — 

".I  am  the  more  glad  to  see  you,  my  dear  boy,  be 
cause  your  being  better  than  your  word  in  coming  a 
day  sooner  than  you  promised  shows  that  you  were 
really  in  earnest  to  give  an  old  man  pleasure,  and  not 
merely  induced  by  your  dear  parents'  request.  How 
ever,  I  am  afraid  that  your  ride  hither  has  been  a 
more  fatiguing  one  than  I  had  hoped  to  have  made 
it,  for  I  should  have  sent  John  and  the  carriage  to 
meet  you  at  Crake's.  But  however,  here  you  are,  and 
you  cannot  come  too  soon,  or  stay  too  long."  Saying 
which,  he  again  shook  me  by  the  hand,  and  wheeling 
his  arm-chair,  with  my  assistance,  to  -the  fireside,  he 
motioned  me  to  take  a  chair  by  his  side,  and  we  sat 
down  and  talked 

"  Affectionate  and  true, 
A  pair  of  friends,  though  I  was  young," 

and  though  my  revered  friend  had  the  advantage  of 
the  Matthew  of  the  poet  by  a  dozen  years.  The 
punctilious  politeness  of  the  old  school,  informed  with 
the  soul  of  real  kindliness  of  heart  and  the  evident 
gratification  which  my  visit  to  his  solitude  gave  him, 
made  me  feel  as  much  at  my  ease  with  him  as  if  a 
draught  from  the  Fountain  of  Youth  had  washed  away 
threescore  and  ten  of  his  years.  We  talked  first  and 
foremost  of  my  parents,  of  whose  well-being  I  gave 


AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  51 

him  what  information  I  possessed,  and  in  every 
particular  of  whose  way  of  life  in  their  new  home  he 
displayed  the  warmest  interest.  He  then  inquired 
after  the  welfare  of  his  old  friend,  my  aunt  Cham 
pion,  and  received  with  marks  of  hearty  satisfaction 
my  accounts  of  her  abounding  in  all  that  should 
accompany  old  age,  as  well  as  the  affectionate  salu 
tations  of  which  I  was  the  bearer.  He  then  talked 
about  the  college,  in  which  he  felt  all  that  warm 
interest  which  has  in  all  times  done  honor  to  her 
sous,  with  but  few  melancholy  exceptions.  I  duly 
presented  the  greetings  of  the  president,  and  an 
nounced  the  advent  of  the  sermons  which  graced  rny 
portmanteau.  Having  suitably  acknowledged  these 
favors,  my  venerable  friend  suddenly  looked  up  in 
my  face,  and  said,  — 

"  By  the  way,  I  am  very  selfish  to  be  catechising 
you  in  this  way  without  remembering  that  you  must 
be  almost  starved.  How  long  is  it  since  you  dined  ? " 

I  replied  that  I  dined  at  Captain  Crake's  at  about 
one  o'clock.  "  Bless  me ! "  he  replied :  "  that  is  seven 
hours  ago  and  better.  Do  me  the  favor  to  pull  the 
bell,  and  this  matter  shall  be  put  to  rights.  Are  you 
not  ravenously  hungry  ? " 

I  should  have  done  injustice  to  the  sentiments  of 
my  heart  if  I  had  replied  in  the  negative,  and  accor 
dingly  assented  to  his  proposition  in  its  fullest  extent, 
and,  having  pulled  the  bell  as  he  desired,  heard  with 
unmitigated  satisfaction  his  directions  to  Mrs.  Wal- 
dron,  his  housekeeper,  to  have  supper  anticipated,  and 


52  AN  OCTOGEXARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

furnished  forth  with  all  despatch.  Many  minutes  did 
not  elapse  before  that  excellent  person  made  her 
appearance,  and  with  the  assistance  of  a  gray-headed 
negro  brought  in  a  small  dining-table  from  the  hall, 
which  was  soon  covered  with  a  tablecloth  of  the 
finest  damask,  and  spread  with  a  pair  of  nicely  roasted 
cold  chickens,  and  a  ham  worthy  of  Westphalia  itself, 
a  loaf  of  .the  purest  of  wheat  bread,  and  some  smoking 
roasted  potatoes,  flanked  with  a  decanter  of  old 
Madeira,  and  a  flagon  of  home-brewed  beer.  After 
due  justice  had  been  done  to  these  viands,  they  were 
replaced  by  a  pumpkin-pie  of  wonderful  dimensions 
and  admirable  composition,  escorted  by  a  cranberry- 
tart,  the  white  flaky  paste  of  which  was  beautifully 
contrasted  with  the  celestial  rosy  red  of  the  fruit,  and 
by  a  noble  Stilton  cheese.  My  hospitable  enter 
tainer  surveyed  my  feats,  as  I  rapidly  made  the  good 
things  before  me  invisible  with  the  appetite  of  a 
hungry  boy,  with  an  air  of  complacent  good-humor, 
and  as  I  approached  the  end  of  my  labors,  suggested 
the  medicinal  virtues  of  a  bowl  of  hot  punch  to  my 
consideration.  I  could  not  dissent  from  a  proposition 
emanating  from  such  a  source,  and  the  motion  was 
carried  by  general  consent.  Peter,  the  gray-headed 
negro  just  mentioned,  was  accordingly  despatched  for 
the  materials,  and  soon  returned  with  the  lemons, 
sugar,  shrub,  and  old  Jamaica,  and  a  small  kettle  of 
hot  water;  which  being  deposited,  he  retired  again, 
and  brought  back  with  him  the  punch-bowl,  of  the  most 
precious  porcelain  of  the  Celestial  Empire,  and  a  fit 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  53 

receptacle  for  the  nectarous  compound  it  was  to  receive. 
Peter,  under  the  special  eye  of  his  master,  concocted 
the  mixture,  and,  having  launched  the  last  lemon- 
paring  upon  its  bosom,  consigned  the  precious  bur 
den  to  his  master's  hands.  He,  having  touched  it  to 
his  lips,  passed  the  bowl  to  one  who  took  a  more 
liberal  draught.  Peter  having  removed  the  remains 
of  the  supper,  and  moved  the  table  nearer  the  hearth, 
Colonel  Wyborne  and  I  drew  our  chairs  closer  to  the 
fire  and  to  each  other,  with  the  genial  bowl  between 
us  (for  the  heresy  of  ladies  had  not  crept  in  within 
the  pale  of  good-fellowship),  and  we  wore  away  the 
evening  hours  in  most  delightful  talk. 

The  conversational  powers  of  my  host  were  unim 
paired  by  years,  and  had  just  enougli  of  a  smack  of 
what  was  then  called  the  old  school  to  give  a  racy 
flavor  to  his  abundant  small-talk.  His  remarks  were 
rich  and  varied  to  a  degree  which  I  have  never  heard 
surpassed,  though  I  have  listened  in  my  time  to  most 
of  the  famous  conversationists  of  the  age.  His  expe 
rience  of  life,  which,  though  it  had  been  completed  a 
half  a  century  before,  was  of  the  most  extensive  de 
scription,  seemed  to  be  as  fresh  in  his  recollection  as 
if  he  had  left  the  bustling  scene  but  yesterday.  The 
images  of  his  early  years  and  his  European  sojourn 
were  as  distinct  and  sharp  in  their  outlines  as  if  they 
were  but  just  impressed;  for  the  events  of  his  retire 
ment  were  not  numerous  or  striking  enough  to  have 
effaced  or  impaired  them.  His  society,  both  on  this 
occasion  and  all  following  ones,  had  a  charm  from 


54  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

this  very  circumstance,  which  that  of  no  other  man  — 
even  one  who  had  enjoyed  the  same  early  opportu 
nities,  but  had  continued  to  mingle  with  the  base 
crowd  —  could  possess.  He  seemed  to  transport  you 
by  the  magic  of  his  words  to  an  age  that  was  past, 
and  to  a  circle  which  had  become  historical,  and 
many  members  of  which  had  taken  their  niches  in 
the  temple 

"  Where  the  dead  are  honored  by  the  nations." 

The  insignificant  particulars  which  he  now  and 
then  incidentally  dropped  of  the  habits  and  way  of 
life  of  the  illustrious  acquaintances  of  his  youth,  gave 
a  vitality  to  the  cold  ideas  I  had  formed  of  them  from 
books  and  their  works,  and  almost  seemed  to  evoke 
them  from  the  shades  to  our  presence.  He  delighted, 
too,  as  most  old  men  do,  to  go  back  to  his  schoolboy 
aud  college  days,  and  describe  the  boyish  troubles  and 
frolics  of  those  hours  when  that  flame  burnt  high  and 
strong,  which  was  now  flickering  in  its  socket. 

Thus,  in  various  converse,  the  hours  flew  imper 
ceptibly  away.  Blazing  logs  had  been  reduced  to  a 
glowing  mass  of  coals  ;  the  candles  had  nearly  meas 
ured  out  their  little  span  of  life ;  and  the  great  clock 
in  the  hall  had  tolled  the  knell  of  another  day.  The 
good  housekeeper,  who  had  several  times  made  for 
herself  errands  into  the  room  to  see  what  was  going 
on,  at  last  entered,  unbidden,  with  the  chamber  can 
dlesticks,  and,  wishing  us  a  good-night,  withdrew. 
The  Colonel  then  made  a  move  to  retire,  declaring 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  55 

that  he  had  not  so  egregiously  violated  the  regularity 
of  his  life  for  many  a  year.  He  first  desired  me  to 
ascertain  whether  the  bowl  was  empty,  and  having 
been  assured  by  me,  in  return,  that  "  the  tankard  was 
no  more,"  invited  me  to  light  the  candles,  and  be 
shown  to  my  sleeping-apartment.  He  accordingly, 
assuming  one  of  the  tapers,  marshalled  me  the  way 
that  I  should  go,  through  the  hall,  up  a  pair  of  stairs 
properly  so  called,  ascending  in  two  flights  with  a 
spacious  landing  between,  and  as  unlike  as  well  as 
may  be  the  corkscrew  abominations  which  put  in 
jeopardy  the  lives  and  limbs  of  the  present  genera 
tion.  My  chamber  was  in  the  front  of  the  house/ 
over  the  winter  parlor  in  which  I  had  spent  the  even 
ing.  My  host,  giving  a  general  survey  to  the  apart 
ment,  to  see  that  all  was  in  due  order,  shook  me 
affectionately  by  the  hand,  and,  enjoining  it  upon 
me  to  lie  as  long  as  I  chose  in  the  morning,  bade  me 
a  good-night,  and  left  me. 

The  appearance  of  my  dormitory  was  quite  in 
keeping  with  the  specimen  of  the  house  I  had  seen, 
as  far  as  I  could  judge  by  the  light  of  my  candle, 
assisted  by  the  expiring  rays  of  a  few  brands,  which 
were  all  that  were  left  of  a  cordial  fire  which  had  been 
lighted  on  my  arrival.  The  bed  was  of  ample  capa 
city,  swelling  up  with  a  downy  buoyancy,  and  covered 
with  a  gorgeous  quilt,  evidently  the  handiwork  of  fair 
hands  of  other  days ;  the  pillows  were  ruffled,  and 
the  sheets  of  a  most  inviting  whiteness.  Over  the 
bedstead  the  tester  was  suspended  from  the  ceiling, 


56  AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

from  which  flowed  on  all  sides  thick  curtains  of  green 
damask.  An  India  cabinet  occupied  the  space  be 
tween  the  windows  opposite  the  bed,  yet  redolent  of 
the  perfumes  which  it  imbibed  in  Far  Cathay,  and 
displayed  on  its  pictured  surface  the  rich  costumes 
and  quaint  customs  of  her  inhabitants.  Between  the 
windows  opposite  the  fireplace  was  a  massive  chest 
of  drawers,  upon  which  stood  an  old-fashioned  oval 
dressing-glass,  turning  upon  pivots  on  what  had  once 
been  a  white  and  gilded  frame.  The  chairs  were  of 
richly-carved  mahogany,  without  arms,  the  backs  hav 
ing  a  lotus-like  expansion  outwards  at  the  tops,  and 
the  seats  apparently  the  fruit  of  the  same  gentle  labors 
which  had  produced  the  quilt.  By  the  bedside  was 
an  elbow-chair,  the  brother  of  the  one  below,  only  this 
was  covered  with  white  dimity.  Upon  a  table  in  the 
middle  of  the  room  I  found  my  portmanteau,  while 
the  open  door  of  a  closet  on  the  right  of  the  fireplace 
displayed  drawers  already  expanded  for  the  hospita 
ble  reception  of  my  integuments.  On  the  other  side 
of  the  fireplace  was  another  closet,  with  a  window 
opening  into  it,  with  water  and  the  appliances  of  the 
toilet,  and  a  shelf  of  books.  The  floor  was  covered 
with  a  comfortable  English  carpet,  and  green  damask 
curtains  hung  heavily  before  the  windows. 

The  gardens  of  Alcina  would  not  have  smiled  more 
invitingly  upon  me  at  that  moment  than  did  that 
snug  apartment.  The  extinguisher  was  soon  on,  and 
I  was  luxuriously  buried  in  a  soft  valley  between  two 
mountains  of  down.  I  lay  awake  for  a  moment  to 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  57 

enjoy  the  sound  of  the  winter's  wind  howling  around 
the  house,  and  every  now  and  then  dashing  the  rain 
against  the  windows  with  a  fitful  violence,  and  some 
times  roaring  down  the  chimney,  as  if  the  fiend  that 
rode  the  blast  were  in  vain  clamoring  for  his  prey. 
These  sounds,  however,  fell  fainter  and  fainter  upon 
my  weary  ear,  and  I  was  soon  fast  asleep. 


CHAPTER  III. 

I  SLEPT  soundly  through  a  dreamless  night,  and 
awoke  about  eight  o'clock  the  next  morning.  I 
was  at  a  loss,  for  a  minute  or  two,  to  define  where  on 
earth  I  might  be  :  soon,  however,  the  scattered  images 
of  the  day  and  night  before  began  to  group  themselves 
palpably  and  distinctly  in  my  recollection;  and  I 
began  to  realize  that  I  was  actually  beneath  the  roof 
I  had  so  strongly  desired  to  visit.  I  sprang  out  of 
bed,  and,  having  learned  the  hour  from  my  watch,  I 
despatched  my  toilet  in  all  convenient  haste.  The 
cheerful  light  of  the  sun,  peeping  through  the  oval 
perforations  in  the  tops  of  the  window-shutters,  in 
formed  me  before  I  left  my  couch,  that  the  complexion 
of  the  weather  had  changed  since  I  had  left  the  pelt 
ing,  pitiless  storm  roaring  about  the  eaves,  and  gone 
to  the  Land  of  Dreams.  Upon  opening  the  window- 
shutters  in  the  front  of  the  house,  I  saw  the  scene 
through  which  I  had  passed  the  night  before  in  the 
blackness  of  darkness,  all  bathed  in  the  living  light 
of  the  blessed  sun.  The  black,  bare  branches  of  the 
superb  elm-trees,  which  rose  high  above  the  roof,  and 
extended  in  two  rows,  one  from  each  side  of  the  house, 
to  the  roadside,  were  dripping  with  raindrops  glitter- 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  59 

ing  in  the  morning  ray.  The  brook,  which  I  could 
now  perceive  brawling  along  just  beyond  the  house 
on  the  right  as  I  stood,  was  hurrying  away  to  the  sea, 
its  dancing  waters  crowning  its  brink,  but  not  over 
flowing  it,  black  as  ink  in  the  shade,  but  of  a  trans 
lucent  amber-color  where  they  were  kissed 

"  With  touch  ethereal  of  Heaven's  fiery  rod." 

On  the  left  of  the  house  I  plainly  discerned  the  car 
riage-road,  which  I  had  vainly  sought  the  night  before, 
the  trees  extending  a  canopy  of  boughs  over  it.  It 
was  separated  from  the  lawn  in  front  of  the  house  by 
an  ancient  hedge  of  boxwood  cut  into  the  fantastic 
forms  which  were  the  delight  of  the  English  gardeners 
of  the  old  school,  and  which  Pope  has  immortalized 
by  his  satire,  but  which,  nevertheless,  my  revered 
friend  scrupulously  preserved  as  a  memorial  of  former 
times.  The  lawn  was  skirted  on  the  other  side  by  a 
double  row  of  the  verdant  fence  which  guarded  it  on 
this.  The  lawn  itself  fell  in  a  gentle  slope,  scarcely 
perceptible,  to  the  roadside,  and  was  now  buried  be 
neath  the  dishevelled  tresses  of  the  overarching  trees, 
ravished  from  them  by  the  winds  of  autumn.  A  low 
wooden  fence,  shielded  on  the  outer  side  by  a  thick 
hedge  of  English  hawthorn,  divided  the  lawn  from 
the  high  road. 

These  observations  were  soon  made  while  my 
toilet  was  making ;  and,  as  soon  as  it  was  finished,  I 
hastened  down  to  the  parlor  below,  which  had  wit 
nessed  my  hospitable  reception.  On  entering  the 


60  AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

room  I  saw  that  my  venerable  host  was  beforehand 
with  me,  and  that  the  break  fast- table  was  awaiting 
my  appearance.  Colonel  Wyborne  was  sitting  by 
the  fireside  in  his  elbow-chair,  dressed  as  the  evening 
before,  with  the  exception  that  a  well-powdered  bag- 
wi«T  had  succeeded  to  the  crown  of  his  head  in  the 

O 

stead  of  the  velvet  cap  of  yesterday.  He  was  busily 
engaged  in  reading  a  large  quarto,  which  I  subse 
quently  discovered  to  be  the  Greek  Testament,  and 
did  not  immediately  perceive  my  entrance.  I  cheer 
fully  bade  him  good-rnorning,  and  desired  him  to 
observe  how  punctiliously  I  had  observed  his  parting 
injunction  to  lie  abed  as  long  as  I  liked.  He  imme 
diately  rose  from  his  chair,  and,  having  laid  aside  his 
book,  shook  my  hand  cordially,  and,  bidding  me  good- 
morning,  thanked  me  for  having  made  myself  at 
home  ;  and  all  in  a  manner  as  if  I  were  an  honored 
contemporary  rather  than  a  college  lad,  and  with 
that  sterling  courtesy  of  address  which  is  the  expo 
nent  of  true  benevolence  and  kindliness  of  heart ;  a 
very  different  thing  from  the  base  metal  which  too 
often  passes  current  in  the  world  as  the  sterling  coin, 
but  wanting  the  stamp  of  the  heart.  Compliments 
being  over,  I  drew  a  chair  alongside  of  his,  and  an 
swered  the  careful  inquiries  which  he  made  as  to  my 
comfortable  lodging  the  preceding  night.  His  hos 
pitable  anxiety  on  this  subject  being  relieved,  a  touch 
upon  the  bell-pull  evoked  our  ministering  spirits, 
Peter  and  the  housekeeper,  from  the  culinary  realms, 
bearing  in  their  hands  the  substantial  and  the  more 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  61 

ethereal  components  of  that  repast,  which,  when 
well  administered,  deserves  the  precedence  which  is 
conceded  to  it  in  the  due  order  of  the  important 
events  of  every  day.  The  breakfast  which  these 
worthy  functionaries  imposed  upon  the  board  bore 
no  resemblance  to  the  tea-and-toast  abominations 
which  usurp  in  these  days  that  honored  name,  and 
to  the  prevalence  of  which  I  attribute  much  of  the 
degeneracy  which  is  allowed  to  have  dwarfed  the 
present  generation.  Peter  marshalled  the  way,  bear 
ing  upon  a  tray  the  massive  silver  coffee-pot,  fuming 
like  a  courser,  and  diffusing  a  fragrance  worthy  of 
Araby  the  Blest.  This  monarch  of  the  breakfast- 
table  was  surrounded  by  a  cortege  of  dishes  tempt 
ingly  concealed  from  view  by  silver  covers ;  which 
when  duly  set  in  order,  and  revealed  to  sight,  dis 
played  the  luscious  rounds  of  toast  saturated  with 
the  most  delicious  of  butter,  the  broiled  chickens, 
the  piquant  sausages,  the  beefsteak,  worthy  of  the 
famous  Club  devoted  to  its  service.  Then  there  was 
the  egg-boiler  full  of  the  freshest  of  eggs,  the  honey, 
the  smoked  salmon,  the  wheaten  loaf  and  the  rye- 
Indian  bread,  the  cream  of  the  richest,  and  sugar  of 
the  whitest.  All  these,  and  other  cates  which  I  do 
not  recollect,  were  all,  too,  for  my  especial  eating ; 
for  at  the  heels  of  Peter  followed  the  housekeeper, 
with  a  large  silver  salver,  adorned  with  rich  antique 
chasing,  upon  which  she  bore  an  ample  bowl  of  the 
finest  China,  filled  with  a  frothing  sea  of  chocolate 
arid  a  certain  number  of  slices  of  delicately  toasted 


62  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

wheaten  bread,  which  was  the  long-established  morn 
ing  meal  of  the  master  of  the  house. 

When  all  preliminaries  had  been  adjusted,  we 
commenced  a  well-directed  and  vigorously  sustained 
attack  upon  the  several  divisions  to  which  we  were 
opposed,  and  soon  effected  a  notable  breach  in  the 
opposite  ranks.  My  host  hospitably  encouraged  me 
in  my  endeavors  to  do  the  amplest  justice  to  his 
good  cheer,  and  enlivened  the  meal  with  a  descrip 
tion  of  the  Scotch  breakfasts  which  had  cheered  his 
journey  through  the  Laud  o'  Cakes,  which  had  not 
then  been  transformed  into  a  fairy-land  of  romance 
and  poetry  by  the  magic  wands  of  Burns  and  Scott, 
but  was  regarded  with  the  kind  of  belittling  preju 
dice  which  afterwards  stamped  the  pages  of  Smollett, 
and  colored  the  mental  vision  of  Johnson.  He  con 
trasted  those  justly  famed  repasts,  which  have  dis 
armed  even  calumny  and  prejudice  by  their  sterling 
virtues,  and  have  surprised  even  the  bitterest  enemies 
into  applause,  with  the  dejeuners  a  la  fourchette  of 
France  and  the  Continent,  and  gave  the  palm  to  the 
substantial  elements  of  the  northern  breakfasts  over  the 
pates,  grapes,  figs,  and  sparkling  wines  of  the  south. 
He  had  evidently  given  the  subject  the  attention  which 
its  importance  deserved ;  and  I  have  seldom  had  oc 
casion  in  my  experience  of  life  to  doubt  the  sound 
ness  of  his  opinions  on  this  subject  or  any  other. 

After  breakfast  was  over,  and  we  had  chatted 
on  various  subjects  for  half  an  hour  or  so,  Colonel 
Wyborne  proposed  a  walk  over  his  farm,  to  which  I 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE,  63 

readily  assented.  Peter,  being  again  summoned  to 
his  master's  assistance,  helped  him  to  substitute  a 
pearl-colored  broadcloth  coat,  embroidered  about  the 
cuffs  and  skirts  with  silk,  for  his  morning-gown ;  and 
having  invested  his  feet  with  a  stout  pair  of  square- 
toed,  high-quartered  shoes  with  heavy  heels,  he 
brought  from  the  hall  his  gold-laced  cocked  hat  and 
gold-headed  cane.  Thus  equipped,  my  venerable 
friend  took  my  arm,  and  we  sallied  forth  from  the 
side  door  opening  upon  the  carriage-way,  and  first 
took  a  survey  of  the  exterior  of  the  house.  It  was 
composed,  in  fact,  of  two  houses  of  two  different 
periods :  the  newer,  as  it  were,  growing  out  of  and 
overshadowing  the  more  ancient.  The  English  cler 
gyman,  of  whose  heirs  I  have  before  said  the  estate 
was  purchased  by  Colonel  Wy home's  mother,  had 
found  a  farmhouse  of  almost  the  earliest  description 
of  New  England  rural  architecture  ;  its  roof  declin 
ing  from  two  stories  in  front  till  it  almost  touched 
the  ground  behind,  and  a  close  porch  projecting  be 
fore,  with  windows  on  either  side,  and  compacted 
of  massy  timbers  of  oak,  on  which  the  mark  of  the 
axe  was  in  many  places  to  be  seen,  knit  together 
with  a  firmness  and  strength  which  showed  that 
our  forefathers  built  for  their  posterity  as  well  as  for 
themselves.  The  wooden  walls  of  our  ancestors 
would,  if  unmolested,  survive,  I  doubt  not,  in  many 
cases,  the  boasted  strength  of  the  granite  structures 
of  the  present  day.  The  original  purchaser  liking 
the  situation  of  the  house,  but  not  thinking  it 


64  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

worthy  of  his  pretensions,  built  a  new  edifice,  two 
stories  high,  with  attics ;  its  rear  joining  upon  the 
side  of  the  older  structure,  so  that  the  original  house 
was  degraded  into  the  servile  condition  of  the  habi 
tation  and  offices  of  the  servants.  He  in  this  way 
secured  to  himself  an  abode  of  capacious  dimensions 
and  convenient  distribution,  but  somewhat  of  a 
heterogeneous  appearance.  The  carriage-road,  in 
which  we  were  walking,  turned  abruptly  away  from 
the  house  before  it  had  reached  the  end  of  it,  and 
swept  round  a  circle  of  trees  and  towering  plants  to 
the  stables,  which  were,  in  the  leafy  time,  effectually 
planted  out  of  sight  by  the  verdant  screen.  Immedi 
ately  behind  the  house  was  a  broad  terrace  of  green 
sod,  from  which  you  descended,  by  a  flight  of  stone 
steps  with  iron  balustrades,  to  the  garden.  The 
transitory  glories  of  this  spot  were  of  course  van 
ished  for  this  year;  but  the  plan  of  the  whole  was 
plainly  enough  discernible.  In  the  centre  of  the 
garden  was  a  small  fish-pond,  with  a  neat  stone 
curbing,  which  was  filled  with  gold  and  silver  fish. 
Immediately  in  front  of  the  fish-pond  was  an  ancient 
sun-dial  standing  upon  a  pedestal  of  stone,  and 
preaching  a  lesson,  by  its  silent  shadow,  of  the 
irrevocable  flight  of  the  gliding  hours,  a  thousand 
times  more  impressive  than  any  told  by 

"  The  iron  tongue  of  Time." 

From  the  fish-pond  as  the  common  centre,  radiated 
eight  well-gravelled  walks,  extending  from  the  centre 


AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS  SINCE.  65 

to  the  boundaries,  and  intersecting  a  circular  gravel 
walk  which  was  described  with  mathematical  exact 
ness,  halfway  from  the  central  point  to  the  extremi 
ties  of  the  garden.  The  sixteen  portions  thus  marked 
out  were  of  exactly  the  same  size ;  and  in  summer, 
when  they  were  filled  with  flowers  or  vegetables 
corresponding  to  each  other,  must  have  answered 
Pope's  description  of  an  old-fashioned  garden,  where 

"  Each  alley  has  a  brother, 
And  half  the  platform  just  reflects  the  other." 

The  garden  was  surrounded  by  a  thick  English  haw 
thorn  hedge,  which  by  age  and  constant  trimming 
had  become  almost  impervious  to  sight,  even  when 
stripped  of  its  leaves.  At  the  bottom  of  the  garden 
a  small  gate  admitted  us  into  the  orchard,  which 
was  of  several  acres  in  extent,  and  filled  with  apple 
and  pear  trees  of  every  variety  of  sweetness  and 
spicy  flavor  which  distinguishes  those  gentle  races. 
Of  his  fruit  Colonel  Wyborne  was  proud,  with  good 
reason  ;  for  he  had  done  much  to  introduce  new 
varieties,  and  a  better  mode  of  cultivation  than  used 
to  prevail.  The  orchard,  a"nd  the  whole  domain 
indeed,  was  sheltered  from  the  ocean  blasts  by  a 
gently  swelling  hill,  "  feathering  to  the  top  "  with  a 
thick  grove  of  various  trees,  which  had  now  reached 
their  full  growth,  having  been  planted  by  the  first 
purchaser,  with  the  exception  of  one  magnificent 
aboriginal  oak,  which  stood  in  the  midst  of  the 
younger  trees  an  acknowledged  monarch,  and  which 
6 


66  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

had  not  yet  disrobed  itself  of  the  gorgeous  scarlet 
mantle  with  which  autumn  had  invested  it.  Under 
this  regal  canopy  there  was  a  rustic  seat,  which 
allured  us  to  its  embraces.  My  aged  companion 
seated  himself  upon  it,  while  I  took  my  place  beside 
him,  and  we  surveyed  together  in  silence  the  brown 
meadows,  and  the  trees  with  every  bough  and  every 
twig  standing  sharply  out,  with  all  their  fantastic 
ramifications,  in  the  yellow  sunshine  of  one  of  the 
last  days  of  the  Indian  summer. 

"There  is  something  exceedingly  captivating  to 
my  imagination,"  my  venerable  friend  began,  after  a 
silence  of  some  duration,  "  in  the  analogies  between 
nature  and  the  experience  of  human  life.  These 
you  will  apprehend  and  appreciate  more  and  more  as 
you  grow  older.  They  are  among  the  many  benevo 
lent  contrivances  of  the  great  Author  of  nature  and 
life  to  make  the  never-dying  soul  contented  and 
cheerful  during  its  brief  imprisonment  in  these  frail 
bodies  and  this  visible  diurnal  sphere.  When  I  was 
of  your  age,  I  loved  the  spring  with  its  budding 
promise  and  tender  green  ;  for  it  was  in  unison  with 
the  consciousness  of  new  life  and  springing  existence 
which  bounded  in  every  vein.  During  my  residence 
in  England,  and  for  the  first  years  of  my  life  here,  I 
left  my  first  love  for  the  mature  beauties  of  summer 
and  of  opening  autumn  ;  and  I  delighted  to  watch 
the  untiring,  never-resting  activity  and  life  which 
informed  all  the  grand  and  all  the  minute  processes 
of  the  great  system  of  nature,  W7hich  goes  on  forever 


AN  OCTOGENAEY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  67 

r 

in  sublime  silence,  working  out  the  beneficent  pur 
poses  for  which  its  Creator  framed  it.  But  now  the 
close  of  autumn  and  the  snows  of  winter  awake 
the  solemn  echo  in  my  heart  more  readily  than  all 
the  glories  of  spring  or  summer.  Nature,  though  she 
never  rests,  now  seems  to  suspend  her  toils.  The 
business  of  the  year  is  over.  And  the  audible  still 
ness  of  the  fields  and  the  sight  of  the  trees,  —  which, 
after  their  task  is  done,  have  thrown  down  the  beau 
tiful  livery  of  their  toil,  —  while  they  swell  the  heart 
of  man  with  gratitude,  also  seem  to  invite  it  to  rest. 

"  On  such  a  day  as  this,  with  this  scene  before  my 
eyes,  I  can  almost  hear  a  blessed  voice  whispering 
me  that  my  long,  long  year  is  almost  over,  and  that  I 
shall  soon  be  with  them  that  rest.  Like  this  old  tree 
under  which  we  sit,  I  have  outlived  almost  all  my 
contemporaries,  and  am  surrounded  by  a  new  genera 
tion,  which  knows  me  not ;  and,  though  I  will  grate 
fully  sustain  the  burden  of  old  age  which  the  great 
Taskmaker  has  imposed  upon  me,  still  I  shall  bow 
with  joyful  acquiescence  whenever  he  shall  direct 
the  axe  to  be  laid  at  my  root." 

"You  think,  then,  sir,"  I  observed  when  he  paused 
in  his  observations,  or  rather  his  soliloquy,  for  he 
seemed  to  address  himself  rather  than  me,  — "  you 
think,  then,  sir,  that  the  retirement  of  a  country  life 
is  a  more  fitting  scene  for  the  last  act  of  a  long  life 
than  the  exciting  bustle  of  a  great  city  and  the  pleas 
ures  of  a  various  society  ? " 

"  To  a  well-constituted  mind,"  he  replied,  "  I  think 


68  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

it  is ;  that  is,"  he  continued  with  a  smile,  "  to  a  mind 
constituted  like  mine.  There  are  natures  which 
would  show  anything  but  wisdom  in  exchanging  the 
busy  throng  and  a  tumultuous  life  for  a  solitude  for 
the  pleasures  of  which  they  have  no  tastes,  and  against 
the  perils  of  which  they  have  made  no  preparation. 
For  my  own  part,  I  have  never  long  regretted  at  any 
one  time  my  withdrawing  from  the  world.  I  have 
spent  my  many  days  pleasantly  to  myself,  and  not 
been  wholly  useless  to  others.  At  the  beginning  of 
the  Eevolution,  indeed,  I  felt  some  visitings  of  re 
morse  that  I  had  reduced  myself  to  the  condition  of 
a  spectator,  at  a  distance  only,  of  that  mighty  drama ; 
w7hile  so  many  of  my  contemporaries,  and  friends  of 
a  later  generation,  were  shaking  the  scene,  which  was 
extended  over  a  continent,  before  the  admiring  eye 
of  the  whole  civilized  world.  These  regrets,  however, 
soon  gave  way  to  more  wholesome  suggestions.  The 
brilliant  part  of  the  action  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
great  men  whose  names  are  forever  identified  with  it; 
but  there  was  a  subordinate  but  equally  important 
portion  of  the  business  of  the  drama  which  I  was  in 
a  favorable  position  to  discharge.  My  relations  with 
this  part  of  the  country  enabled  me  to  do  something 
towards  kindling  and  keeping  alive  the  flame  of  pa 
triotism  ;  and  I  have  the  satisfaction  to  think  that  I 
was  enabled  to  send  many  of  the  best  soldiers  and 
officers,  too,  to  the  battle,  besides  keeping  the  country 
side  in  a  state  of  self-defence.  I  could  contribute, 
too,  to  one  of  the  sinews  of  war.  So  I  soon  consoled 


AN   OCTOGENARY  FIFTY   YEARS  SINCE.  69 

myself  by  being  useful  for  not  being  illustrious ;  for 
ambition  was  but  an  idle  dream  at  the  time  of  life  to 
which  I  had  then  attained,  if  it  be  ever  anything 
more  than  a  will-o'-the-wisp.  On  the  whole,  then, 
I  think  that  I  chose  wisely  for  myself  in  retiring 
from  the  world ;  but  I  would  never  advise  any  person 
whose  heart  has  not  been  weaned  from  it  to  imitate 
my  example." 

"  But  can  it  be  possible,  sir,"  I  said,  "  that  you 
have  never  felt  the  want  of  the  society  to  which  you 
were  admitted  on  such  friendly  terms  in  Europe  ?  I 
should  have  thought,  sir,  that  the  choicest  spirits  you 
could  have  collected  around  you  in  the  capital  of  your 
native  province  would  have  seemed  tame  and  insipid 
after  the  circles  you  had  left,  let  alone  this  seclusion 
in  a  remote  country-seat." 

"  In  the  first  place,"  he  replied,  "  you  must  remem 
ber  that  I  had  had  my  fill  of  the  society  you  mention  : 
I  had  lived  on  intimate  and  friendly  terms  with  the 
men  about  whom  posterity  will  be  the  most  curious 
of  any  of  our  age  ;  so  that  the  feverish  thirst  which 
at  one  time  I  felt  to  know  face  to  face  those  illustri 
ous  men  was  entirely  slaked.  And  in  the  second 
place,  which  perhaps  you  will  scarcely  believe,  the 
familiar  society  of  eminent  men  is  in  most  cases  not 
so  very  different  from  that  of  other  well-bred  and 
well-educated  men  of  the  same  rank  in  life,  and  their 
intimacy  is  perhaps  a  pleasanter  thing  in  recollection 
than  in  possession.  For  many  years,  too,  I  was  in  no 
luck  of  companions,  and  now  in  my  old  age  I  ought 


70  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

not  to  expect  to  be  exempted  from  the  doom  of  out 
living  my  best  friends,  which  is  inseparably  annexed 
to  an  unusual  extension  of  life.  Still  I  am  by  no 
means  left  alone  in  the  world.  My  excellent  friend 
Mr.  Armsby  is  an  invaluable  friend :  although  he  is 
speculatively  one  of  the  most  rigid  disciples  of  labor, 
yet  in  his  life  and  conversation  he  is  one  of  the 
mildest  as  well  as  one  of  the  merriest  of  men.  But 
come,"  he  continued,  rising  from  his  seat,  "  let  us  con 
tinue  our  walk  to  the  seashore." 

We  accordingly  skirted  along  the  hill,  and  soon, 
doubling  its  side,  the  wide  ocean  lay  stretched  before 
us,  broken  by  only  one  or  two  little  islands  in  the  far 
distance.  The  waters  were  of  the  deepest  and  darkest 
blue,  with  here  and  there  a  white  sail  stealing  along 
their  surface.  The  beach  was  hard  as  marble ;  and 
the  surf,  which  yet  felt  the  sway  of  the  storm  of  the 
night  before,  rolled  slowly  and  heavily  in  upon  it  in 
long  and  broken  ridges.  To  our  left,  at  about  a  quar 
ter  of  a  mile's  distance,  the  brook  which  watered  the 
grounds  about  the  house  found  its  way  to  the  ocean 
after  many  meanderings:  to  the  right,  at  a  considera 
ble  distance,  a  wooded  bluff  came  abruptly  down  to 
the  shore,  and  terminated  the  prospect  in  that  direc 
tion.  As  we  slowly  paced  along  the  sands,  listening 
to  the  voice  of  many  waters,  and  watching  the  sea 
gulls  as  they  hovered  on  dipping  wings  over  the 
waves,  or  rode  lightly  over  their  crests,  Colonel 
Wyborne  said  with  a  smile, — 

"  I  hope  that  I  have  made  a  more  rational  as  well 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  71 

as  a  more  happy  use  of  these  rolling  waters  since  I 
have  lived  by  their  side  than  did  the  pining  and 
discontented  spirit  of  Tully  during  his  exile,  who, 
you  remember,  spent  his  repining  hours  in  counting 
the  waves  as  they  danced  to  the  shore,  and  sighing 
for  the  Senate,  the  forum,  and  the  shouts  of  the  peo 
ple — 

'  Bidding  the  father  of  his  country  hail.' 

The  voice  of  the  ocean  has  never  sounded  in  my  ears 
like  an  invitation  to  return  to  the  world  I  have  left, 
but  more  as  a  friendly  counselling  that  there  are  pur 
suits  and  pleasures  higher  and  better  than  any  that 
world  can  give." 

"  Do  you  think,  sir,"  I  inquired,  "  that  you  could 
be  contented  to  live  in  an  inland  town,  unless  you 
could  occasionally  visit  the  seashore  ? " 

"  I  should  be  sorry,"  he  replied,  "  to  be  compelled 
by  duty  or  by  poverty  to  try  the  experiment.  There 
is  something  about  the  grand  features  of  Nature, 
such  as  the  ocean  or  mountains,  which  seems  to 
make  an  unfading  impression  on  the  hearts  of  those 
who  have  lived  from  childhood  in  their  neighborhood, 
and  which  always  excites  the  sensation  of  home-sick 
ness  in  their  breasts  when  separated  from  them.  I 
have  a  good  deal  of  the  passion  for  the  ocean  which 
the  Swiss  have  for  the  Alps ;  and,  if  I  should  be  com 
pelled  to  retire  inland,  I  fear  that  the  roar  of  the  wind 
among  the  forest-trees  would  be  a  Ranz  dcs  Vdclies  to. 
my  heart.  I  would  not  have  you  construe,  however, 
my  young  friend,  my  complacent  review  of  my  own 


72  AN   OCTOGENARY  FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

retirement  into  a  recommendation  to  you  to  try  the 
same  plan  of  life.  Fit  yourself  for  the  action  of  life, 
but  do  not  set  your  heart  upon  success  in  it ;  for  such 
are  the  chances  and  changes  of  this  sublunary  state, 
that  the  best  accomplished  for  achieving  a  brilliant 
lot  often  fail  in  compassing  the  fulfilment  of  their 
ambitious  hopes,  unless  they  can  woo  fortune  to  be 
the  handmaid  of  enterprise." 

"Are  not,  however,"  I  observed,  "  the  chances  of  a 
man  who  is  absorbed  in  great  purposes  and  plans, 
embracing,  perhaps,  a  continent  in  their  scope,  and 
reaching  forward  to  distant  posterity,  better  for  true 
and  exalted  happiness  than  those  of  one  who  leads  a 
useful  and  innocent  life  within  a  narrow  circle  ? " 

"  I  think  his  chances  for  permanent  happiness  less," 
replied  Colonel  Wyborne.  "  His  moments  of  success 
may  be  more  exquisite  than  any  of  the  tranquil  hours 
of  the  private  man ;  but  then  the  vexations  and  ob 
stacles  which  he  encounters,  the  calumny  and  detrac 
tion  which  assail  him,  and  the  too  frequent  failure 
of  his  best  laid  and  most  benevolently  formed  plans, 
which  perhaps  embrace  the  whole  race,  make  up  a 
mighty  balance  against  the  intense  delight  of  those 
rare  minutes.  I  grant  you  that  there  may  be  instances, 
as  there  have  been  a  few  in  history,  of  minds  so  con 
structed,  blest  with  such  clear  views  of  the  true  ends 
of  human  existence,  and  moved  by  such  pure  and 
sublime  yet  simple  springs,  that  they  make  a  happi 
ness  for  themselves,  even  of  disappointment  and  de 
feat,  and  regard  nothing  as  worthy  of  regret  but 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  73 

the  being  unfaithful  to  the  powers  and  the  purposes 
which  Providence  has  committed  to  them." 

"  You  do  not  believe,  then,  sir,"  said  I,  "  that  every 
man  may  be  the  'architect  of  his  own  fortunes,'  as 
has  been  stoutly  maintained  ? " 

"  Indeed  I  do  not,"  he  replied.  "  That  is  a  fallacy 
which  lures  on  many  an  aspiring  youth,  who  mistakes 
ambition  for  ability,  to  miserable  disappointment,  and 
sometimes  to  ruin.  We  see  men  standing  triumphantly 
at  the  goal  with  the  wreath  of  victory  on  their  brows, 
and  remember,  that,  even  at  the  starting-post,  their 
prophetic  souls  had  grasped  the  prize ;  forgetting  how 
many  competitors,  full  at  the  outset  of  as  confident 
hopes,  have  been  outstripped  in  the  course,  and  have 
turned  broken  hearted  away.  Every  man  may  be  and 
must  be  the  architect  of  his  own  happiness,  and  every 
man  may  learn  the  alchemy  which  will  teach  him  to 
extract  happiness  out  of  the  bitterest  fruits  which 
overhang  his  path  ;  but  let  him  not  attempt  to  wrest 
the  sceptre  from  the  hand  of  the  Disposer  of  events, 
and  presume  to  dictate  to  him  the  precedence  which 
he  is  to  have  in  the  ranks  of  his  human  servants." 

"  Surely,  sir,"  I  interrupted,  "you  are  not  a  fatalist ! 
You  would  not  take  away  the  accountability  of  man 
by  making  him  a  mere  blind,  helpless  tool  in  the 
hand  of  a  higher  Power  ? " 

"Nothing  can  be  farther  from  my  views  or  my 
wishes,"  he  replied.  "  Man  is  accountable  to  the  ut 
termost  farthing  for  the  use  he  makes  of  the  talents 
bestowed  upon  him;  but  the  number  of  the  talents 


74  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

and  the  sphere  in  which  they  are  to  be  employed 
are  fortunately  appointed  for  him  by  Infinite  Wisdom. 
We  find  ourselves  in  this  world,  in  this  country,  in 
this  age,  without  any  agency  or  volition  of  our  own ; 
we  find  within  us  certain  powers  and  passions,  differ 
ing  in  every  man  from  his  neighbor,  and  differing, 
too,  in  the  opportunities  for  their  improvement  and 
the  occasions  for  their  right  or  wrong  employment; 
and  all  this  seems  to  be  the  work  of  accident.  But  no 
rightly  judging  mind  can  believe  it  to  be  so.  The  feel 
ing  of  this  truth  gave  rise  to  belief  in,  the  dark  and 
inevitable  fate,  which,  according  to  the  Greeks,  gov 
erned  the  destinies  of  gods  and  men.  They  attempted 
by  this  melancholy  abstraction  to  solve  the  enigma  of 
existence.  They  found  themselves,  they  knew  not  how, 
in  a  various  and  inexplicable  scene.  Some  found 
crowns  on  their  brows ;  some,  the  philosophic  gown 
upon  their  shoulders ;  some  wielded  the  truncheon  of 
victorious  armies ;  and  some  swayed  the  fickle  popu 
lace  with  their  breath  —  and  all  these  various  fortunes 
growing  from  a  combination  of  circumstances  and 
events  over  which  they  had  exercised  little  or  no 
control.  Surrounded  by  these  impenetrable  shadows, 
men  in  a  later  age  attempted  to  derive  some  light 
from  the  stars  to  illuminate  the  darkness  which  was 
about  them  ;  and  so  astrology  arose.  They  made  the 
blessed  constellations  an  alphabet  by  which  they 
endeavored  to  spell  out  the  decrees  of  fate.  And  this 
was  natural  enough  before  the  invention  of  the  tele 
scope  had  revealed  the  immensity  of  the  universe ; 


AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  75 

for  men  could  not  believe  that  the  glorious  apparitions 
which  looked  down  upon  them  from  the  heavens 
every  night  were  made  only  to  delight  the  eye ;  and 
there  was  something  soothing  to  the  bewildered  mind 
of  man  in  thus  connecting  his  unaccountable  destiny 
with  those  beautiful  and  fadeless  orbs  of  light.  It  was 
a  sort  of  antepast  of  immortality." 

"  You  would  then,  sir,"  I  observed,  "  had  you  lived 
two  thousand  years  ago,  have  stood  under  the  shadow 
of  the  Portico,  and  maintained  the  •  non-existence  of 
evil  and  the  sufficiency  of  man  for  himself  ?  " 

"  I  believe  I  might  have  asserted  the  sufficiency  of 
man  for  the  creation  of  his  own  happiness,"  he  smil 
ingly  replied  ;  "  but  I  think  I  should  have  maintained 
ray  doctrines  beneath  the  living  shades  of  the  Garden 
rather  than  under  the  cold  shadow  of  the  Porch. 
There  is  nothing,"  he  continued  more  seriously,  "  that 
fills  my  whole  mind  with  such  a  certainty  of  the 
divine  origin  of  our  religion  as  the  contemplation  of 
its  perfect  system  in  comparison  with  those  of  the 
wisest  of  the  ancients.  The  son  of  a  carpenter  in  a 
remote  and  despised  province  founding  a  school  of  the 
divinest  philosophy,  which  explains  all  the  mysteries 
of  our  being,  fathoms  the  depths  of  the  human  soul, 
directs  the  aspirations  of  the  loftiest  minds,  and  pro 
vides  for  the  wants  of  the  humblest,  is  to  my  mind  a 
standing  miracle.  All  the  concentrated  wisdom  of  all 
the  wisest  of  the  heathens  collected  around  the  intel 
lect  of  Socrates  as  a  nucleus,  faded  into  nothing,  like 
the  morning  star  before  the  sun,  when  the  divine 


76  AN  OCTOGENAKY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

mind  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  dawned  upon  the  benighted 
world.  Not  all  the  sublime  procession  of  prophets  by 
which  he  was  heralded,  not  all  the  stupendous  appa 
ratus  of  miracles  which  encompassed  him,  not  all  the 
noble  army  of  martyrs  which  have  borne  witness  with 
their  blood  to  the  truths  he  brought  to  light,  bring 
such  irresistible  conviction  to  my  mind  as  the  simple 
contemplation  of  the  teachings  of  the  Master,  limned 
out  in  his  own  life  while  on  earth.  The  peasant  of 
Galilee  resolves  the  doubts  which  had  perplexed  the 
wisest  of  antiquity,  explains  the  questions  which  the 
subtlest  minds  had  raised,  and  establishes  a  system 
suitable  to  the  wants  of  all  the  nations  of  the  earth 
and  to  all  the  individuals  which  compose  them,  —  a 
system  to  which  the  wisest  of  his  disciples  in  the 
course  of  eighteen  hundred  years  have  been  able  to 
add  nothing,  and  in  which  his  craftiest  enemies  have 
been  able  to  discover  no  fault.  You,  my  dear  young 
friend,"  he  continued,  turning  his  face  towards  me, 
and  laying  an  affectionate  hand  upon  my  arm,  "  you  are 
just  launching  away  on  the  voyage  of  life  which  I 
have  nearly  finished.  Do  not  refuse  to  listen  to  the 
counsel  of  one  who  has  sounded  all  its  depths  and 
shallows :  take  with  you  the  teachings  of  Jesus  as 
your  compass,  and  his  life  as  your  chart,  and,  fixing 
your  eyes  steadfastly  on  these  unchanging  guides, 
seize  the  helm  with  a  firm  hand,  and  steer  right  on 
ward,  fearing  nothing  that  can  befall  you ;  and  then, 
whether  your  course  be  over  a  summer's  sea  or  amidst 
threatening  waves,  whether  you  ride  conspicuous  in 


AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  77 

the  eyes  of  your  fellow-voyagers,  or  glide  unobserved 
along,  you  will  be  sure  at  last  of  entering  in  triumph 
the  haven  of  everlasting  rest. 

"And  now  come,"  he  added  after  a  short  pause, 
"  let  us  turn  homeward,  and  I  will  show  you  my 
farmhouse  and  farm;  for  so  far  you  have  only  seen 
my  pleasure-grounds." 

With  these  words  he  turned  towards  the  farm-road 
into  which  we  had  entered  after  leaving  the  grove ; 
and,  following  it  along,  it  led  us  through  wide  fields, 
some  of  which  showed  as  stubble-fields  are  apt  to  do 
at  harvest-home :  others  bore  evident  marks  of  the 
recent  disinterment  of  potatoes  and  other  esculent 
roots.  At  some  distance  was  a  burly  white  man,  guid 
ing  a  plough  drawn  by  a  noble  yoke  of  oxen  under  the 
influences  of  a  tall  black  man  in  a  white  frock,  pre 
paring  a  place  for  the  early  wheat,  which  would  spring 
up  at  the  due  time,  unchilled  by  the  snows  of  winter 
which  had  rested  upon  it  for  months.  Five  or  six 
other  men,  some  black  and  some  white,  were  employed 
in  various  ways ;  some  repairing  fences,  some  spread 
ing  the  compost  of  the  barnyard,  and  one  conducting 
a  load  of  seaweed  to  that  most  necessary  repository. 

As  we  walked  along,  I  inquired  of  Colonel  Wy borne 
as  to  the  economics  of  his  mode  of  life,  and  how  far 
he  was  dependent  on  the  metropolis  for  his  necessaries 
and  luxuries.  In  reply,  he  told  me  that  he  procured 
nothing  from  town  but  his  wines,  liquors,  tea  and 
coffee,  and  such  products  as  our  own  country  does  not 
afford.  His  own  farm  supplied  him  with  bread,  vege- 


78  AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEAPkS   SINCE. 

tables,  the  riches  of  the  dairy,  and  in  a  great  measure 
with  butchers'  meat  and  poultry.  Wild  fowl  and  fish 
were  to  be  had  for  the  trouble  of  shooting  or  catching 
them.  His  cider  was  the  boast  of  the  country  round. 
His  farm-people  and  servants  were  almost  wholly 
clothed  from  the  flax  and  wool  which  grew  on  his 
estate.  His  wood  was  procured  from  a  range  of  well- 
timbered  hills,  which  he  pointed  out  to  me  in  the 
distance.  The  finest  of  venison  was  brought  to  his 
door  at  the  proper  season,  in  any  quantities,  from  the 
Sandwich  woods.  His  life,  as  he  described  it  to  me, 
seemed  to  be  one  of  the  most  relishing  and  enviable 
of  lots,  and  put  me  in  mind  of  Gil  Bias'  account  of 
his  life  at  Lirias ;  and  I  thought  that  I  should  be 
perfectly  contented  if  I  might  look  forward  at  the 
close  of  life  to  such  a  retreat,  where  I  might  inscribe 
upon  my  doors,  with  him  of  Santillane,  — 

"  Invent  portum,  Spes  et  Fortuna,  valete  ! 
Sat  me  lusistis,  ludite  nunc  alios  !  " 

But,  alas  !  no  such  white  days  were  in  reserve  for  me. 
The  farm-road  brought  us,  after  some  windings 
among  the  fields,  to  his  farmhouse,  which  was  situ 
ated  about  a  third  of  a  mile  from  his  mansion.  The 
house  was  old,  but  in  perfect  repair,  and  stood  in 
almost  too  immediate  neighborhood  of  two  modern 
barns  and  an  old-fashioned  corn-barn.  The  barnyard 
was  alive  with  fowls  of  all  kinds  —  chickens,  turkeys, 
ducks,  guinea-fowl,  and  a  gorgeous  peacock.  Beneatli 
the  barn  farthest  from  the  farmhouse  was  the  piggery, 


AN    OCTOGEXARY   FIFTY    YEARS   SINCE.  79 

which  might  have  served  for  the  courtiers  of  Circe 
herself.  The  barns  themselves  were  filled  to  the 
utmost  of  their  ample  capacities  with  the  gifts  of 
summer  and  autumn.  About  a  dozen  cows  were  rumi 
nating  in  a  large  enclosure  opening  from  the  nearer 
barn,  in  which  were  their  stalls  and  those  of  the 
farm-horses.  A  flock  of  about  thirty  sheep  were  shel 
tered  in  a  fold  about  a  stone's  throw  from  the  barn, 
towards  the  shore.  Under  a  shed  open  towards  the 
house  was  a  cider-press,  full  of  rural  and  festive  asso 
ciations  ;  the  dense  mass  of  pomace  yet  remaining 
beneath  the  relaxed  pressure  of  the  spiral  screw  speak 
ing  of  a  recent  vintage.  As  we  approached  the  farm 
house  door,  it  opened,  and  the  farmer's  wife  advanced, 
with  a  child  in  her  arms  and  a  couple  more  clinging 
to  her  homespun  gown,  peeping  at  the  Colonel  with  a 
mixture  of  bashfulness  and  of  joy  at  the  sight  of  their 
old  friend  glowing  in  their  ruddy  faces.  The  good 
woman  invited  us  to  come  in  and  rest  ourselves, 
which  proposition  we  declined,  as  it  grew  late.  We 
just  entered  the  kitchen,  and  stood  for  a  minute 
within  the  enormous  jambs  of  the  chimney,  on  each 
side  of  which  was  a  comfortable  seat  of  brick,  built 
for  the  accommodation  of  the  more  ardent  worshippers 
of  the  Penates.  A  settle  of  truly  uneasy  straightness 
of  back  and  narrowness  of  seat  made  an  obtuse  angle 
with  the  fireplace,  covered  with  towels  of  various  de 
grees  of  whiteness  and  dryness.  A  sufficient  supply 
of  rush- bottomed,  red-painted  chairs,  in  different 
degrees  of  preservation,  stood  about  the  apartment. 


80  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

A  brilliant  display  of  pewter  graced  a  number  of 
shelves  on  one  side  of  the  room.  As  I  gave  a  glance 
up  the  yawning  chimney,  I  discerned  a  black  array  of 
hams  and  flitches  of  bacon  receiving  the  incense 
of  the  smoking  fires  below.  The  good  woman  made 
many  apologies  for  her  kitchen  being  in  a  litter, 
resting  her  main  defence,  however,  upon  its  being  the 
day  before  Thanksgiving,  and  the  weight  of  duties 
which  devolved  upon  her.  Colonel  Wyborne  was 
occupied,  while  I  was  making  my  survey,  and  listen 
ing  to  the  very  unnecessary  excuses  of  the  good  wife, 
in  taking  the  youngest  child  in  his  arms,  and  patting 
the  heads  of  the  others,  and  distributing  some  of  the 
little  bribes  which  cheaply  buy  the  affection  of  chil 
dren,  and  which  the  kind-hearted  old  man  was  seldom 
without.  I  was  struck  with  the  sort  of  affectionate 
veneration  with  which  the  good  woman  regarded  Colo 
nel  Wyborne,  and  with  her  self-respect,  too,  which 
she  thought  in  no  manner  impaired  by  the  most  rev 
erential  observance  of  her  kind  landlord. 

Freeing  himself  at  last  from  his  little  friends,  Colo 
nel  Wyborne  bade  Mrs.  Davis  a  good-morning,  and 
we  set  forth  on  our  return  to  his  house.  The  farm- 
road  led  us  on  to  the  stables,  where  we  stopped  a 
moment  to  inspect  its  arrangements.  The  black 
coachman  was  busy  cleaning  the  chariot;  the  hind 
wheel,  slightly  raised  from  the  ground,  whirling  mer 
rily  round  under  a  shower  from  a  watering-pot  in  the 
hands  of  the  African  Jehu.  This  worthy  functionaiy 
had  all  the  happy  contentment  beaming  from  his 


AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  81 

polished  face,  and  grinning  from  his  ivory  teeth, 
which  usually  marks  a  well-fed  and  well-used  negro. 
His  master  told  me  that  he  had  been  born  on  the  place, 
and,  together  with  all  the  other  blacks  which  he  had 
owned  before  the  abolition  of  slavery  in  the  State, 
had  voluntarily  remained  in  his  service.  He  left  his 
work  to  exhibit  to  my  admiring  gaze  the  horses  over 
which  he  reigned ;  and  as  he  displayed  the  glossy 
hides  of  the  stout  coach-horses,  and  the  little  nag  for 
"  massa's  "  own  riding,  and  the  old  white  pony  which 
had  retired  on  half-pay  for  the  remainder  of  his  life, 
he  seemed  to  be  filled  with  as  honest  a  pride  as  ever 
swelled  the  bosom  of  a  master  of  the  horse.  Having 
bestowed  all  due  commendations  upon  this  branch  of 
the  service,  I  accompanied  my  host  along  the  sweep 
of  the  road  to  the  house. 

Upon  gaining  the  door,  we  were  met  upon  the 
threshold  by  the  excellent  housekeeper,  who  an 
nounced,  with  an  air  of  no  small  importance,  that 
Mr.  Armsby,  the  clergyman  of  the  parish,  was  in  the 
parlor.  Colonel  Wyborne  immediately  hastened  to 
open  the  door  of  the  apartment  indicated,  and  we 
perceived,  standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  waiting 
for  us,  the  reverend  gentleman  in  question.  He  was 
a  tall  man  of  about  fifty-five,  "  or,  by'r  Lady,  inclin 
ing  to  threescore,"  broad-shouldered,  with  the  least 
in  the  world  of  a  stoop,  of  a  dark  complexion,  with 
thick  black  eyebrows  beetling  over  a  pair  of  sharp, 
austere  gray  eyes.  He  was  suitably  attired  in  a 
black  cloth  coat,  waistcoat,  and  breeches,  with  a 
6 


82  AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

pair  of  thick  boots  coming  nearly  up  to  the  knee 
upon  his  legs,  and  a  white  bushy  wig  upon  the  ex 
crescence  formed  by  nature  for  that  use.  Colonel 
"YVyborne  received  him  with  all  the  respectful  cour 
tesy  which  was  due  from  a  gentleman  to  an  honored 
equal,  and  which  the  pastor  returned  with  much 
formal  politeness ;  through  which,  however,  might  be 
discerned  by  an  accurate  observer  a  priestly  conse- 
quentiality,  now,  alas !  but  seldom  seen,  which  told 
how  much  superior,  in  his  own  opinion  and  that  of 
society  generally,  was  the  director  of  the  spiritual 
affairs  over  the  most  honorable  and  honored  of  the 
laity.  When  the  two  gentlemen  had  concluded  their 
salutations,  Colonel  Wyborne,  turning  to  me,  pre 
sented  me  in  due  form  to  his  reverend  friend  as  a 
young  gentleman  just  from  the  arms  of  their  common 
mother.  Mr.  Arrnsby,  turning  upon  me  an  austere 
regard,  without  even  the  ghost  of  a  smile  upon  his 
lips,  and  with  the  slightest  imaginable  inclination  of 
his  head,  coldly  extended  his  large  hard  hand  to  me  in 
acknowledgment  of  my  reverend  observance  and  pro 
found  obeisance.  Having  surveyed  me  from  head  to 
foot  with  an  annihilating  scrutiny  which  nearly  sunk 
me  to  the  centre,  he  took  a  chair,  in  compliance  with 
Colonel  Wyborne's  invitation,  and,  entering  into  con 
versation  with  him,  apparently  lost  all  memory  of  so 
insignificant  an  object  as  myself.  They  talked  of 
the  weather,  the  crops,  the  Thursday  lecture  the  week 
before  in  Boston  (which  Air.  Armsby  had  attended), 
and  of  the  fearful  prospects  of  the  times  and  of  the 


AN   OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  83 

country ;  both  uniting  in  predictions  of  utter  misrule, 
subversion  of  ranks,  and  destruction  of  property, 
which  were  shortly  to  ensue. 

"Before  this  young  man's  career  is  over,"  said 
Colonel  Wyborne,  "  these  States  will  be  split  into 
rival  monarchies,  or  else  into  anarchies  inviting  the 
foot  of  the  foreign  conqueror." 

"  Yes,"  asserted  his  reverend  adviser,  turning  his 
severe  eyes  upon  me, —  "yes,  young  man,  you  will 
have  a  worse  fight  to  maintain  than  we  have  had 
with  England.  You  will  have  to  contend  with  intes 
tine  factious,  to  strive  for  the  protection  of  property, 
for  the  preservation  of  religion,  for  the  maintenance 
of  all  that  is  worth  having  in  this  world.  The  old 
scenes  of  which  you  read  at  college  in  Grecian  and 
Roman  history  will  be  acted  over  again  in  these  new 
commonwealths  before  your  head  is  gray." 

"  For  my  part,"  added  Colonel  Wyborne,  "  I  rather 
incline  to  the  opinion  that  our  unhappy  country  is 
destined  to  be  one  of  the  dependencies  of  France. 
In  the  present  humiliated  condition  of  England, — 
bleeding  from  the  disruption  of  her  Colonies,  and" 
tottering  under  the  weight  of  an  overwhelming  debt, 
—  it  is  hardly  to  be  supposed  that  Louis  XVI.  will  not 
be  encouraged  to  revive  the  old  scheme  of  universal 
dominion  which  his  ancestor,  Louis  le  Grand,  at  one 
time  seemed  likely  to  bring  about.  England  once 
subdued,  the  subjugation  of  the  rest  of  the  continent 
would  soon  follow,  and  then  poor  we  would  be  but 
a  mouthful  to  the  ambition  of  the  Grand  Monarque." 


84  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

"  True  enough,"  replied  Mr.  Armsby.  "  No  human 
wisdom  can  foretell  what  such  a  nation  as  the  French, 
consolidated  under  a  single  absolute  king,  may  accom 
plish.  I  confess  I  tremble  for  the  cause  of  Protes 
tantism  in  the  world.  Who  knows  but  we  may  see 
a  cardinal  legate  holding  his  court  in  Boston !  "  And 
the  worthy  divine  shuddered  at  the  bare  imagination. 
Colonel  Wyborne  continued, — 

"  I  think  that  the  American  Provinces,  States,  I 
mean,  have  yet  strength  and  courage  enough  to  resist 
a  crusade  under  banners  blessed  by  the  Pope;  unless, 
indeed,  it  should  not  be  preached  until  our  little  jeal 
ousies  and  quarrels  have  ripened  into  serious  hatred, 
and  the  lines  of  division  have  become  too  deeply 
marked  to  be  filled  up  even  by  such  a  danger.  The 
sooner  such  an  attack  should  be  made,  the  better 
I  think  it  would  be  withstood ;  for  every  day  seems 
to  weaken  the  green  withes  which  bind  together  the 
strong  but  jarring  giants  of  the  Confederacy.  In  a 
few  years  England  herself  might  conquer  us  in  detail, 
for  all  prospect  of  any  permanent  connection  seems 
"desperate." 

"  It  is  too  true,"  replied  the  clergyman ;  "  and,  bad 
as  that  would  be,  it  would  scarcely  be  worse  than  the 
utter  dissolution  of  all  the  elements  of  society,  which 
seems  to  hang  over  our  heads.  The  industry  of  the 
country  palsied,  the  land  filled  with  sturdy  vaga 
bonds,  law  and  justice  mocked  and  defied,  subordina 
tion  a  laughing-stock,  religion  and  her  ministers 
neglected,  property  uncertain,  magistrates  unrevered 


AN   OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  85 

and  disobeyed,  —  with  all  these  things  staring  us  in 
the  face,  what  can  we  expect  but  sudden  destruction 
or  gradual  rain  ?  " 

In  this  manner  were  these  two  excellent  gentlemen 
pleased  to  make  themselves  unhappy,  and  to  scare 
unhappy  me  with  these  hobgoblins  which  they  con 
jured  up.  I  was  not  then  as  used  as  I  have  become 
since  to  the  croakings  of  such  boding  fowl,  —  which  I 
have  happily  lived  to  see  many  times  disappointed 
of  the  ruin  they  predicted,  —  and  I  felt  serious  alarm 
as  to  the  instant  safety  of  my  purse,  and  ultimate  in 
tegrity  of  my  throat.  The  conversation,  however,  at 
leogth  changed  to  books ;  and,  some  allusion  requiring 
a  reference  to  some  work  which  was  not  at  hand, 
Mr.  Armsby  proposed  going"  to  the  library  in  search 
of  it.  Colonel  Wyborne,  assenting,  turned  to  me  and 
said,  — 

"  I  believe  that  you  have  not  yet  penetrated  to  my 
adytum :  so  perhaps  we  will  all  go  together." 

We  all  accordingly  left  the  parlor,  and,  following 
Colonel  Wyborne  across  the  hall,  entered  after  him  a 
door  on  the  opposite  side.  Upon  passing  the  thresh 
old,  I  was  surprised  and  delighted  by  a  display  of 
books  which  I  had  never  seen  equalled  except  in  the 
college  library.  The  library  consisted  of  a  room 
extending  the  whole  breadth  of  the  house ;  the  two 
rooms  having  been  thrown  into  one  for  the  accommo 
dation  of  Colonel  Wyborne's  numerous  collections. 
The  walls  were  covered  with  well- filled  shelves,  taper 
ing  up  from  the  massive  folios  beneath  to  the  pygmy 


86  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

twelves  at  the  top.  Busts  in  marble  of  Homer,  Socra 
tes,  Cicero,  and  Horace,  stood  on  pedestals  in  the  four 
corners  of  the  room ;  and  one  of  Lord  Bacon  and  of 
Newton  kept  guard  in  the  middle,  where  a  portion 
of  the  old  partition- wall  yet  projected  from  the  sides 
of  the  rooms,  carried  into  an  arch  in  the  centre  of 
the  ceiling.  A  study-table,  covered  with  green  baize, 
occupied  the  middle  of  one  of  these  divisions.  An 
abundance  of  well-stuffed  chairs  were  distributed 
about  in  excusable  confusion,  and  a  set  of  library- 
steps  stood  against  one  of  the  bookcases.  A  fire 
place  filled  up  either  end  of  the  apartment;  the 
panel  over  the  one  nearest  to  the  door  by  which  we 
had  entered  being  occupied  by  a  full-length  portrait 
of  a  gentleman  of  about  five  and  thirty,  in  whose 
form  and  features  I  could  with  difficulty  trace  any 
resemblance  to  the  venerable  wreck  which  I  beheld 
before  me.  Fifty  years  had  swept  away  almost  every 
trace  of  the  manly  figure  and  handsome  face  which 
looked  as  if  it  might  defy  age  and  misfortune,  and 
left  a  "  withered,  weak,  and  gray  "  old  man  standing 
and  waiting  on  the  shores  of  eternity ;  and  yet  here 
the  cunning  hand  of  the  artist  had  bade  the  sun  as  it 
were  stand  still,  and  had  bestowed  a  sort  of  immor 
tality  upon  one  hour  —  long  since  vanished  —  of  the 
summer  of  his  days.  He  was  dressed  in  a  hunting- 
suit,  apparently  the  uniform  of  a  hunter ;  and  a  fine 
hound  was  crouched  at  his  feet.  Behind  him  on  the 
left  of  the  picture  were  two  pillars,  with  a  crimson 
curtain  depending  from  their  capitals;  while  to  the 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  87 

right  you  saw  a  landscape  representing  a  level  coun 
try,  well  planted,  with  a  river  winding  through  it, 
and  terminated  by  misty  hills  in  the  distance.  The 
corresponding  panel  over  the  opposite  fireplace  was 
filled  by  a  picture  answering  in  size  and  frame  to 
this,  but  concealed  from,  view  by  a  green  velvet  cur 
tain  which  was  drawn  across  it.  My  imagination 
readily  filled  it  up  with  the  portrait  of  his  beloved 
and  long-lost  wife  of  whom  my  aunt  Champion  had 
told  me.  Why  it  should  be  thus  mysteriously  veiled, 
I  could  not  conjecture;  but  the  circumstance  cer 
tainly  had  the  effect  of  increasing  my  curiosity  to  see 
it  to  the  most  intense  degree. 

While  I  was  thus  engaged,  the  two  elders  had 
found  what  they  wanted,  and  were  returning  to  the 
parlor.  I  was  strongly  tempted  to  frame  some  excuse 
for  remaining  behind  ;  but  a  secret  awe  of  the  cleri 
cal  dignitary,  and  a  fear  lest  my  curiosity  might  be 
obvious  to  Colonel  Wyborne  and  give  him  pain, 
deterred  me;  but  I  fully  resolved  to  uncover  the  fea 
tures  concealed  by  that  veil  at  the  first  opportunity  I 
could  find  or  make.  We  accordingly  returned  to  the 
parlor ;  and,  after  a  short  sitting,  Mr.  Armsby  rose  and 
took  his  leave,  being  accompanied  to  the  hall-door 
by  Colonel  Wyborue  and  myself,  and  reminded  by 
the  former  of  his  standing  engagement  to  dine  with 
him  on  the  following  day.  This  was  the  first  intima 
tion  I  had  had  of  the  existence  of  such  a  prescrip 
tion  ;  and,  lover  as  I  even  then  was  of  old  customs, 
I  confess  that  in  this  instance  I  should  have  been 


88  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

better  pleased  with  its  breach  than  its  observance. 
I  did  not  at  all  relish  the  idea  of  having  this  uncom 
fortable  third,  with  his  stony  step  and  hard  eye, 
coming  to  the  table,  and  displacing  our  mirth  with 
his  unseasonable  severity.  Colonel  Wyborne,  how 
ever,  assured  me  that  I  should  find  him  another  man 
when  we  were  a  little  better  acquainted,  saying  that 
his  excellent  friend  was  one  of  that  old  school,  which 
held  that  religion  and  virtue  were  most  effectually 
recommended  to  the  young  by  a  harsh  and  forbidding 
exterior  and  deportment  in  their  votaries. 

"  To-day,"  he  added,  "  you  have  had  a  touch  of  his 
theory :  to-morrow,  I  doubt  not,  you  will  see  a  speci 
men  of  his  practice." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

TH\  INNER  soon  followed  the  departure  of  the  pas- 
•*"*'•  tor,  and  was  sauced  with  discourse  which  I 
would  that  my  limits  would  permit  me  to  record. 
The  afternoon  and  evening  passed  swiftly  away,  sped 
by  "old  wine,  old  books,  old  wood,"  and  an  "old 
friend."  At  an  earlier  hour  than  the  preceding 
night,  the  chamber  candles  lighted  us  to  bed,  and 
my  hospitable  host  shook  me  by  the  hand  with  a 
cordial  good-night.  After  he  had  retired,  I  felt  but 
little  inclination  for  repose,  and,  as  a  good  fire  was 
blazing  on  the  hearth,  I  procured  a  volume  of  Swift 
from  the  closet  of  my  room,  and  sat  down  by  the 
fireside  to  read.  My  thoughts,  however,  soon  wan 
dered  from  the  page  on  which  my  eyes  were  fixed, 
and  began  to  brood  over  the  strangeness  of  the  place 
in  which  I  found  myself  and  the  singular  history  of 
my  kind  old  host.  I  figured  to  myself  the  stripling 
parting  from  his  mother's  roof,  and  seeking  the  land 
of  his  ancestors.  Then  I  saw  him  in  the  midst  of 
the  stir  and  bustle  of  London,  and  imagined  his  first 
palpitating  interviews  with  Pope  and  Young  and 
Gay.  Then  I  would  see  him  mixing  in  the  hollow 
crowd  of  courtiers  in  the  great  man's  antechamber, 
or  joining  in  the  fluttering  throng  which  passed 


90  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

in  review  before  the  old  monarch  on  a  birthday,  — 
that  throng  whose  follies  and  vices  are  portrayed 
in  fadeless  colors  upon  the  pages  of  Lady  Mary 
Wortley. 

The  scene  changed,  and  he  was  sitting  between  a 
couple  of  haycocks  with  Bolingbroke  at  Lydiard, 
or  was  listening  to  a  chapter  of  pointed  corn  plain- 
ings  at  Pope's  breakfast-table,  or  was  chased  up  and 
down  stairs  by  the  Dean  of  St.  Patrick.  Another 
wave  of  the  wand  transported  him  to  Paris,  and 
plunged  him  in  the  recesses  of  the  Palais  Eoyal ; 
and  yet  another,  and  he  stood  among  the  ruins  of 
Rome.  Again  he  was  in  England,  and  then  came 
a  mist  over  the  mirror,  and  objects  were  but  faintly 
and  uncertainly  seen  in  it.  Among  them,  however, 
was  a  beautiful  woman  moving  about,  and  busy  with 
his  destiny.  She  was  now  sitting  alone  in  an  old 
manor-house,  gazing  listlessly  at  the  trees  of  the  park 
as  they  spread  their  green  canopies  over  the  herds 
of  deer,  and  at  a  single  swan  floating  majestically  in 
the  stream  which  flowed  beneath  them.  A  sound  is 
heard:  she  raises  her  head  from  her  pensive  hand, 
and  shakes  back  her  clustering  locks,  and  eagerly 
listens.  It  is  the  tread  of  a  horse  galloping  up  the 
approach.  She  hastily  rises,  and  with  faltering  steps 
advances  towards  the  door.  It  opens,  and  Wyborne 
enters.  Her  gestures  seem  to  entreat  him  to  hasten 
away,  for  there  is  danger  in  his  stay.  He  re-assures 
her  with  looks  of  joyful  love.  And  now  he  seats 
himself  by  her  side;  her  head  droops  upon  his 


AN   OCTOGEXARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  91 

shoulder,  and  her  passive  hand  rests  in  one  of  his, 
while  the  other,  half-encircling  her  waist,  plays  with 
the  tangles  of  her  hair.  Can  there  be  any  doubt  as 
to  the  theme  of  their  glowing  discourse  ?  But  hark  ! 
What  noise  is  that  in  the  courtyard  ?  Is  it  possible 
that  the  chase  can  be  over?  They  both  start  up. 
She  entreats  him  to  fly :  he  moodily  shakes  his  head. 
It  is  too  late.  The  door  flies  open.  A  gray-haired 
man,  but  hale  arid  ruddy,  and  of  Herculean  propor 
tions,  enters.  He  starts  —  turns  pale  with  rage  : 
his  lips  move  with  dire  imprecations.  His  sword  is 
out,  and  he  advances  furiously  upon  Wyborne,  who 
puts  his  blade  aside  with  his  sheathed  rapier.  The 
old  man  stamps  with  passion,  and  seems  to  call  for 
help.  A  train  of  liveried  menials  enter,  and  at 
their  master's  beck  approach  the  intruder.  Wyborne 
gently  disengages  himself  from  the  clinging  girl,  and 
tenderly  places  her  fainting  form  upon  a  couch. 
His  steel  glitters  in  the  air.  He  describes  around 
him  a  magic  circle,  which  the  baffled  crew  dare  not 
pass.  The  door  closes  behind  him,  and,  before  the 
dependents  can  ask  the  further  pleasure  of  their  lord, 
the  clang  of  his  horse's  hoofs  is  heard  lessening  in  the 
distance. 

Then  again  I  saw  them  riding  over  the  waves  of 
the  Atlantic,  and  I  beheld  her  gentle  form  pining 
away  on  a  distant  shore,  perhaps  under  the  fatal  ban 
of  a  father's  curse  —  and  then  her  funeral. 

"  I  must  see  her  picture  before  I  sleep  ! "  I  ex 
claimed,  starting  up,  strongly  excited  by  my  waking 


92  AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

dream.  "I  must  gaze  upon  her  lovely  features  as 
they  are  feebly  shadowed  forth  on  the  canvas  below, 
or  the  phantom  I  have  conjured  up  will  haunt  me 
till  dawn."  I  opened  the  door  softly,  and  listened : 
all  was  silent  as  the  grave.  I  took  off  my  shoes,  and, 
snuffing  my  candle,  prepared  to  descend.  I  have  to 
confess  that  I  was  not  at  that  time  of  my  life  free 
from  the  fumes  of  the  superstitious  lore  which  in  my 
boyish  days  formed  the  chosen  aliment  of  childhood, 
and  which  was  employed  by  the  ignorant  nurses  of 
those  days  both  as  a  reward  and  a  punishment.  I 
own  my  curiosity  more  than  half  gave  way  when  the 
hall-clock  struck  TWELVE  as  I  was  groping  my  way 
down  stairs.  I  reached  the  library-door ;  my  hand 
was  upon  the  lock:  I  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and 
looked  hastily  over  my  shoulder.  The  lock  turned, 
and,  as  the  door  slowly  opened,  I  felt  as  if  I  should 
encounter  some  spectral  form  in  the  deserted  apart 
ment.  All  was  still,  however,  and  nothing  was  to 
be  seen  as  I  advanced  into  the  room,  but  the  white, 
ghastly  busts  in  the  middle  of  it,  casting  long  black 
sepulchral  shadows  into  the  void  beyond.  I  ad 
vanced  stealthily  along,  shading  my  flickering  candle 
with  my  hand,  when  I  was  suddenly  startled  with  a 
shock  and  a  noise.  I  had  stumbled  over  a  chair. 
Apprehensive  lest  the  noise  should  alarm  the  house, 
I  returned  hastily  to  the  door,  and  listened.  But 
no  sound  broke  the  dead  silence  of  the  night,  and  I 
returned  with  more  cautious  steps  to  pursue  my 
way.  At  last  I  stood  before  the  mysterious  curtain 


AN   OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  93 

which  concealed  the  features  of  the  long-buried  fair. 
I  felt  strangely  excited  ;  I  felt  as  if  some  appearance, 
natural  or  supernatural,  would  yet  baffle  iny  curi 
osity.  The  mantel-piece  was  so  high,  that  I  was 
unable  to  reach  the  curtain  from  the  ground,  and, 
putting  down  my  light,  I  went  in  search  of  the 
library-steps,  which  I  carefully  arranged  before  the 
fireplace.  Taking  up  the  candlestick,  I  mounted 
the  steps,  and  laid  my  hand  upon  the  fringe  of  the 
curtain,  and  was  in  the  act  of  withdrawing  it,  when 
I  heard  a  rustling  sound  behind  me.  Turning  sud 
denly  around,  I  saw  before  me  an  apparition,  which 
in  such  a  place  and  at  such  an  hour  might  well  have 
daunted  a  stouter  heart  than  mine.  A  figure  in  white 
drapery  falling  to  its  feet,  a  white  covering  upon  its 
head,  and  its  pale  and  withered  features  lighted 
up  by  a  taper  held  in  its  long  bony  fingers,  was 
looking  sadly  yet  sternly  upon  me.  My  candle 
dropped  from  my  hand,  and  I  was  near  falling  to  the 
ground. 

"  Young  man,  what  do  you  here  ? "  inquired  a 
well-known  voice.  It  was  Colonel  Wyborne,  who 
had  been  disturbed  by  the  falling  of  the  chair  at 
my  first  entrance,  and  who  had  descended  as  he  was, 
in  search  of  the  cause.  My  confusion  may  be  ima 
gined  :  I  would  almost  have  exchanged  his  presence 
for  that  of  one  of  the  beings  of  another  world,  which 
for  a  moment  I  had  imagined  him  to  be.  He  stood 
looking  at  me  with  a  kind  of  bewildered  curiosity, 
and  again  said,  before  I  had  recovered  from  my  con- 


94  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

fusion,  "  Young  man,  how  came  you  here  at  this  time 
of  night  ? " 

By  this  time  I  had  descended  from  my  elevation, 
and  had  in  some  degree  collected  my  spirits,  and, 
thinking  that  the  truth  was  the  best  excuse  I  could 
make,  I  apologized  for  having  disturbed  his  repose, 
and  accounted  for  my  strange  conduct  by  the  strong 
curiosity  which  my  aunt  Champion's  description  of 
Mrs.  Wyborne  had  excited  in  my  mind  to  see  her 
portrait.  I  added,  that,  as  the  picture  was  veiled,  I 
had  concluded  that  the  subject  was  one  upon  which 
I  Was  not  to  touch  in  his  presence ;  but  that  my 
curiosity  was  certainly  not  diminished  by  that  air 
of  mystery,  and  it  had  perhaps  got  the  better  of  my 
sense  of  what  was  due  to  my  host ;  which  certainly 
should  have  prevented  me  from  prying  into  what  he 
saw  fit  to  conceal.  I  concluded  by  heartily  begging 
his  pardon  for  my  unauthorized  intrusion  upon  such 
sacred  ground,  and  promising  to  offend  no  more  in 
future. 

I  had  gathered  up  my  candlestick  and  broken 
candle,  and  was  passing  by  him,  feeling  sufficiently 
foolish,  when  the  kind  old  man  laid  his  hand  upon 
my  arm,  and  gently  detained  me. 

"  Stop,"  said  he,  "  there  is  no  great  harm  in  what 
you  have  done  :  your  chief  fault  has  been  in  not  hav 
ing  told  me  of  your  desire  to  see  all  that  remains  to 
me  of  my  beloved  wife.  I  did  not  know  that  you 
had  even  heard  of  her ;  and  she  is  a  subject  to  which 
I  never  lead,  unless  I  am  sure  of  an  interested  audi- 


AN  OCTOGENABY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  95 

tor.  Ascend  the  steps  again,  if  you  please,  and  draw 
the  curtain." 

Much  relieved,  I  obeyed  with  alacrity,  and  the 
portrait  was  soon  unveiled.  The  light  of  the  two 
faint  candles  gave  but  a  tantalizing  view  of  a  form  of 
the  softest  grace,  and  features  of  the  most  bewitch 
ing  beauty.  There  she  sat  in  the  bloom  of  early 
womanhood  — 

"  In  freshest  flower  of  youtbly  years." 

The  side  of  her  figure  was  presented  to  you ;  but  her 
face  was  turned  as  it  were  suddenly  to  yours,  as  if 
upon  some  happy  surprise ;  life  and  joy  breathing 
from  her  half-smiling  lips,  and  flashing  from  her  dark 
hazel  eyes.  The  graceful  proportions  of  her  bust, 
too,  were  brought  skilfully  into  view  by  the  attitude 
the  painter  had  chosen.  Her  light  brown  hair,  form 
ing  a  singular  but  beautiful  contrast  with  her  dark 
eyes,  fell  in  natural  ringlets  upon  her  shoulders,  and 
shaded  her  pure  brow.  Her  right  hand  rested  upon 
the  smallest  of  lapdogs,  which  (evidently  a  portrait, 
too)  was  apparently  roused  by  the  same  cause  which 
had  excited  his  mistress,  and  was  half  standing  upon 
her  lap,  and  regarding  you  with  a  serious  earnestness 
of  expression.  She  was  seated  under  a  tree,  as  was 
usual  in  portraits  of  women  of  that  day ;  and  a  laud- 
scape,  which  I  could  scarcely  discern,  formed  the 
rest  of  the  scenery  of  the  picture. 

I  stood  for  many  minutes  gazing  upon  this  lovely 
vision, —  this  being  long  since  vanished  from  the  earth, 


96  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS  SINCE. 

and  yet  here  before  me  in  all  the  rosy  light  of  youth 
and  joy.  Colonel  Wy borne  did  not  interrupt  my 
abstracted  gaze  till  I  drew  a  long  breath,  as  if  after 
a  long  draught  of  beauty.  He  at  length  broke  the 
silence. 

"It  is  like  her,"  said  he,  "too  like  her,  I  sometimes 
think;  and  at  other  times  I  look  at  it  till  the  re 
semblance  seems  to  vanish  in  the  stronger  ligbt  of 
memory.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  I  have  hung  the 
curtain  before  it;  for  I  find  that  the  reality  of  the 
portraiture  impresses  me  more  vividly  if  it  be  pre 
sented  only  occasionally  to  my  view." 

"  She  must  have  indeed  been  a  creature,"  I  ex 
claimed,  "to  be  remembered  to  the  end  of  the  longest 
life  !  I  am  sure  that  her  image  will  never  fade  from 
my  remembrance,  should  my  days  be  protracted  to 
the  utmost  verge  of  existence." 

"  You  are  right,  my  son,"  returned  my  aged  friend : 
"you  are  right.  She  was  one  of  those  beings  who 
bore  the  stamp  of  immortality  upon  her  brow  while 
she  was  on  earth ;  and  she  breathed  an  undying  re 
membrance  into  the  hearts  of  all  who  knew  her.  We 
have  been  long  parted  ;  but  she  has  never  been  absent 
from  me.  And  now  this  fleshly  veil  must  soon  be 
withdrawn,  and  we  shall  again  see  one  another  face 
to  face." 

As  he  was  speaking,  I  turned  my  eyes  from  the 
lively  portraiture  before  me  to  the  living  countenance 
at  my  side.  His  eyes  were  raised ;  the  tears  rolled 
down  his  wrinkled  but  unmoved  cheek;  his  mind 


AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  97 

had,  as  it  were,  for  a  moment  escaped  from  its  prison- 
house,  and  rejoined  the  companion-spirit,  the  long- 
lost,  but  the  unforgotten. 

"  The  tears  of  bearded  men,"  it  has  been  said,  and 
often  quoted,  "  stir  up  the  soul  of  him  who  beholds 
them  with  a  far  deeper,  because  stranger  sympathy, 
than  is  called  forth  by  the  ready  tears  of  woman." 
But  what  are  they  to  the  tears  of  extreme  old  age  ? 

I  was  deeply  moved,  and,  descending  from  my  ele 
vation,  I  advanced  to  my  venerable  friend,  and,  taking 
his  hand,  reproached  myself  for  having  thus  agitated 
his  aged  bosom  by  my  ill-timed  curiosity.  He  looked 
at  me,  and  seeing  in  my  wet  eye  and  quivering  lip 
the  sympathy  which  annihilated  the  years  that  sepa 
rated  us,  he  looked  benignantly  upon  me,  and  said,  — 

"  Nay,  my  dear  boy,  it  is  I  who  should  apologize 
for  having  thus  given  vent  to  emotions  which  are  far 
better  confined  in  the  breast.  But  you  have  taken 
me  at  unawares,  and  the  strangeness  of  the  hour 
and  the  unexpectedness  of  this  interview  quite  dis 
armed  me.  But  come,"  he  continued,  taking  me  by 
the  arm,  "  we  will  live  over  together  those  long-gone 
years  at  some  more  seasonable  time.  And  now  let  us 
betake  ourselves  to  our  chambers  again." 

With  these  words  we  slowly  retired  from  the  li 
brary,  and  ascended  the  stairs  in  silence.  When  we 
reached  the  door  of  my  apartment,  Colonel  Wyborne 
expressively  pressed  my  hand  without  a  word,  and 
left  me  — 

"  To  chew  the  food  of  sweet  and  bitter  fancy." 
7 


98  AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

It  was  now  near  one  o'clock.  My  fire  was  almost 
out,  and  my  candle  was  flickering  in  its  socket :  so  I 
speedily  disposed  myself  for  rest.  It  was  long,  how 
ever,  before  sleep  consented  to  be  wooed  to  my  pil 
low.  The  figures  of  my  aged  host  and  of  the  bride 
of  his  youth  for  a  long  time  flitted  around  my  couch, 
and  drove  sleep  away.  At  last,  however,  the  twin- 
brother  of  Death  waved  his  poppies  over  my  head, 
and  my  senses  were  lapped  in  forgetful  ness. 

When  I  awoke  in  the  morning,  the  midnight  events, 
which  were  the  first  which  occurred  to  my  remem 
brance,  seemed,  like  the  visions  of  the  night,  to  be 
"  such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of."  But  the  rays  of 
the  sun  soon  chased  away  the  shadows  which  had 
lingered  after  sleep  had  fled,  and  I  realized  that  I 
had  actually  had  the  singular  interview  with  Colonel 
Wyborne  in  the  library,  which  dwelt  on  my  memory. 
I  felt  at  first  as  if  our  morning  meeting  might  be  a 
little  awkward  after  our  midnight  parting,  and  I 
resolved  to  make  no  allusion  to  the  matter,  unless 
my  host  led  to  the  subject ;  but  upon  second  thoughts 
I  determined  not  to  treat  it  as  a  circumstance  of 
which  I  was  ashamed,  but  as  one  which  had  excited 
a  strong  interest  in  my  mind,  of  which  I  could  not 
forbear  to  speak. 

Upon  my  reaching  the  parlor,  I  found  Peter  busily 
employed  in  laying  the  breakfast-table,  with  an  air 
of  even  greater  importance  than  usual ;  which  I  ac 
counted  for  by  the  fact  of  its  being  Thanksgiving 
Bay.  His  master  had  not  yet  appeared.  But  a  few 


AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  99 

minutes,  however,  elapsed,  before  the  door  opened, 
and  he  came  in.  He  bade  me  good-morning  in  his 
usual  manner,  and  I  could  perceive  no  trace  of  the 
agitation  of  a  few  bom's  before.  When  Peter  had 
marshalled  the  last  division  of  the  multitudinous 
array  of  comestibles  which  were  provided  for  my 
refreshment,  and  the  housekeeper  had  duly  furnished 
forth  the  simpler  components  of  Colonel  Wyborne's 
repast,  and  they  had  both  withdrawn,  I  begged  to 
know  if  my  kind  entertainer  had  experienced  any  ill 
consequences  from  his  unusual  exposure,  of  which  I 
was  the  unintentional  cause.  He  set  my  fears  at  rest 
upon  that  point,  and  showing  no  disinclination  to 
the  subject,  I  reverted  to  it,  assuring  him  that  it  was 
an  hour  the  remembrance  of  which  would  abide  with 
me  to  my  dying-day.  He  seemed  pleased  with  my 
enthusiasm,  and  gratified  to  think  that  the  memory 
of  his  wife,  which  he  had  supposed  would  have  been 
buried  with  himself,  would  take  root  in  a  younger 
breast,  and  flourish  for  another  generation.  He  in 
quired  how  much  of  his  history  I  had  learned  from 
Mrs.  Champion,  and  then  added  many  particulars 
which  she  had  omitted,  from  her  having  figured  fa 
vorably  in  them,  of  his  short  residence  in  Boston. 
He  also  added,  beginning  at  the  break  fast- table,  and 
continuing  his  narrative  in  a  short  walk  in  the  gar 
den,  a  succinct  history  of  his  first  acquaintance  with 
Maria  Somers,  the  difficulties  he  surmounted,  his 
clandestine  marriage,  and  the  reasons  which  made  it 
expedient  to  transfer  his  residence  from  England  to 


100  AN   OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

America.  His  history,  strange  and  eventful  as  it  was, 
I  must  reserve  for  some  opportunity  which  affords  an 
ampler  verge  than  is  left  by  this  too  protracted  though 
"  ower  true  "  tale.  We  continued  sauntering  up  and 
down  the  gravel  walks,  and  bathing  in  the  delicious 
soft  air  and  hazy  light  of  a  day  better  worthy  of  a 
place  among  the  bright  ring  that  circle  in  joyous  dance 
around  the  merry  month  of  May  than  to  be  of  the 
train  of  the  gloomy  month  which  ushers  in  the  winter, 
till  the  sound  of  the  first  bell  reminded  us  that  it 
was  time  to  make  our  preparations  for  divine  service. 

My  toilet  was  soon  completed,  and  I  occupied  my 
self  until  it  was  time  to  go  to  church  in  a  daylight 
visit  to  the  library.  The  lovely  features  of  Maria 
Wy borne  were  still  unveiled,  and  smiled  upon  me 
even  more  sweetly  than  they  had  done  the  night  be 
fore,  as  the  rays  of  the  sun  seemed  to  penetrate  the 
darkest  recesses  of  the  picture,  and  to  bring  boldly 
out  all  that  was  dimly  seen  at  midnight.  When  I 
heard  Colonel  Wyborne  leave  his  chamber  overhead, 
I  drew  the  curtain,  and,  having  removed  the  steps 
from  the  fireplace  to  their  appropriate  nook,  I  issued 
out  to  meet  him. 

The  second  bell  was  just  beginning  to  ring,  and  the 
carriage  was  already  at  the  door;  the  sable  coach 
man  sitting  complacently  enthroned  upon  the  dicky, 
while  Peter,  hat  in  hand,  stood  by  the  expanded 
door  and  unfolded  steps  of  the  old-fashioned  chariot. 
Colonel  Wyborne  stood  before  me  as  he  reached  the 
lowest  stair,  the  very  image  of  a  gentleman  of  the 


AN   OCTOGEXARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  101 

generation  which  was  then  just  leaving  the  stage. 
His  wig  was  elaborately  powdered,  and  terminated 
behind  in  a  black  silk  bag,  which  swung  pendulously 
from  shoulder  to  shoulder  as  he  walked.  His  coat 
was  of  a  deep  claret-color,  with  gold  buttons,  and 
embroidered  about  the  button-holes,  skirts,  and  cuffs. 
His  waistcoat,  of  the  same  material,  richly  laced  about 
the  ample  pocket-flaps,  opening  in  front,  displayed  a 
world  of  the  finest  lace  waving  in  the  breeze.  Ruffles 
of  the  same  gossamer  fabric  shaded  his  hands.  His 
breeches  and  stockings  were  of  black  silk,  and  his 
shoes  were  graced  with  ample  buckles  of  the  purest 
gold.  His  gold-headed  cane  —  full  half  as  tall  as 
himself,  now  only  seen  on  the  stage — and  his  cocked 
hat  were  brought  by  the  vigilant  Peter,  who  left 
his  post  by  the  carriage-door  upon  his  master's  ap 
proach.  Having  invested  him  with  these  ensigns  of 
dignity,  Peter  took  the  cloak  from  the  hands  of  the 
attendant  housekeeper,  and  with  fitting  reverence  en 
veloped  his  master's  form  in  its  ample  folds.  Alas  for 
the  scarlet  cloaks  of  our  fathers !  They  have  van 
ished,  with  many  of  the  other  habits  of  our  ancestors, 
and  have  carried  with  them  to  their  last  home  much 
of  the  graceful  reverence  for  age  and  rank  of  which 
they  were  the  emblems.  Peace  to  their  shreds ! 

Colonel  Wyborne,  being  at  length  invested  with  all 
his  habiliments,  leaned  upon  my  arm,  and  somewhat 
painfully  ascended  the  uncertain  footing  of  the  car 
riage-steps.  I  followed  him,  and  the  door  was  closed 
upon  us  by  Peter,  who  duly  took  his  stand  behind  the 


102  AX   OCTOGEXARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

carriage.  The  heavy  vehicle  moved  slowly  forward, 
and,  as  we  turned  into  the  high-road,  it  might  have 
been  thought  that  one  of  the  frontispieces  to  the  old 
editions  of  Sir  Charles  Grandison  was  suddenly  in 
spired  with  life,  and  had  turned  out  the  family  coach 
of  Uncle  Selby,  or  the  more  elegant  equipage  of  Sir 
Hargrave  Pollexfen,  or  the  mercurial  Lady  G.,  upon 
the  king's  highway.  Turning  to  the  left  as  we  came 
into  the  public  road,  we  ascended  a  considerable  hill, 
from  the  top  of  which  we  saw  before  us  the  village 
meeting-house,  forming,  as  it  were,  the  centre  of  the 
little  rural  system.  As  we  drove  along  the  road  we 
saw  the  inhabitants  of  the  village  issuing  from  their 
comfortable  houses,  and  wending  their  way  to  church. 
They  were  mostly  dressed  in  the  productions  of  their 
own  farms  and  looms,  and  had  an  air  of  substantial 
plenty  about  them,  without  any  attempts  on  the  part 
of  man  or  woman  to  ape  the  manners  and  costume  of 
the  town.  The  road  was  also  covered  with  the  farm 
ers  who  lived  beyond  walking- distance,  mounted  on 
stout  farm-horses,  with  their  wives  or  daughters  seated 
on  pillions  behind  them  ;  and  now  and  then  a  heavy 
square-topped  gig,  or  chaise  as  it  was  then  called, 
looking  like  a  sedan-chair  cut  in  two  and  placed  on 
wheels,  came  lumbering  along,  filled  with  an  amount 
of  humanity  which  proved  to  a  demonstration  the 
infinite  compressibility,  if  not  perfectibility,  of  human 
nature.  The  meeting-house  was  of  the  earliest  style 
of  construction ;  the  belfry  in  the  centre  of  the  roof, 
which  sloped  up  on  four  sides  to  it :  the  principal 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  103 

door,  which  was  opposite  to  the  pulpit,  was  on  one  of 
the  longer  sides  of  the  parallelogram,  while  the  shorter 
sides  were  adorned  and  accommodated  with  porticos. 
As  we  passed  by  the  cheerful  groups  of  walkers  or 
riders,  —  for,  it  not  being  the  sabbath,  they  did  not 
think  it  incumbent  upon  them,  though  going  to  meet 
ing,  to  put  on  their  Sunday  faces,  —  they  all  made  due 
reverence  to  Colonel  Wyborne,  who  was  universall}7 
beloved  for  his  bountiful  and  courteous  spirit.  When 
we  drew  up  at  the  church-door,  many  a  brawny  arm 
was  proffered  to  assist  him  in  his  descent,  which  he 
acknowledged  with  the  most  perfect  grace  of  good- 
breeding,  and  said  something  to  each  of  his  humble 
friends,  which  made  them  better  contented  with 
themselves,  and  of  course  with  him. 

I  followed  Colonel  Wyborne  up  the  broad  aisle  to 
his  pew,  which  was  the  fourth  from  the  door  on  your 
right  hand  and  the  nearest  of  the  pews  to  the  pulpit, 
the  space  between  the  pews  and  the  pulpit  being  filled 
up  with  benches,  upon  which  were  arranged  the  aged 
parishioners  who  were  not  owners  of  pews,  in  order 
of  seniority ;  the  post  of  honor  being  the  one  nearest 
the  minister.  The  pulpit  was  of  oak,  unpainted,  and 
surmounted  by  an  enormous  sounding-board,  looking 
like  a  gigantic  extinguisher  just  on  the  point  of  put 
ting  out  the  luminary  beneath.  Beneath  the  pulpit, 
the  deacons'  seat  embraced  within  its  ample  enclos 
ure  the  dignified  officials  for  whom  it  was  designed, — 
one  bald-headed,  with  an  unquestionable  squint,  and 
the  other  with  his  thin  gray  locks  falling  almost  to 


104  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

his  shoulders,  and  with  a  sharp  face  and  meagre  per 
son  ;  both  seated  with  their  backs  to  the  pulpit,  and 
their  faces  to  the  congregation.  Two  galleries  ran 
round  the  walls ;  one  filled  with  women,  and  the  other 
with  men.  Near  the  ceiling,  on  the  left  hand  as  we 
sat,  a  phenomenon  was  presented  to  the  inquiring  eye 
in  the  shape  of  an  oblong  hole  in  the  wall,  surrounded 
by  a  sort  of  wooden  frame  in  which  was  set  a  human 
face,  which  glared  upon  the  meeting-house  door  with 
an  earnestness  almost  supernatural.  About  every 
ten  seconds  the  face  of  the  apparition  underwent  a 
sort  of  downward  twitch,  which  was  succeeded  with  a 
sharp  toll  of  the  bell ;  but  the  eyes  were  ever  riveted 
upon  the  door.  At  length  a  twitch  of  more  convul 
sive  energy  than  usual  was  followed  by  an  emphatic 
clang  of  the  bell,  which  said  as  plainly  as  the  tongue 
of  bell  could  speak,  "  There,  my  work 's  done  for  to 
day  ! "  And,  while  its  undulating  sound  was  vibrating 
on  the  ear,  the  Eev.  Mr.  Armsby  walked  majestically 
along  the  aisle,  and  ascended  the  stairs;  his  well- 
powdered  wig  diffusing  a  miniature  snow-storm  upon 
the  small  precise  cape  of  his  black  cloak.  After  a 
short  pause,  the  services  proceeded.  The  prayers  of 
the  revered  -pastor  were  admirable,  eloquent,  devout, 
fervid,  mostly  clothed  in  the  language  of  Scripture,  or 
at  least  in  language  which  gushed  from  a  mind  deeply 
imbued  with  the  spirit  of  the  Hebrew  prophets.  As 
the  rich,  deep  tones  of  his  voice  uttered  forth  the  reci 
tal  of  the  blessings  and  bounties  which  this  people 
had  received  at  the  hand  of  Heaven,  —  of  freedom,  of 


AN   OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  105 

peace,  of  plenty,  and,  above  all,  of  the  knowledge  of 
the  true  God  and  of  Jesus  Christ  whom  he  has  sent, 
—  and  then  described  their  unworthiness  and  ingrati 
tude  and  sinfulness,  and  deprecated  the  impending 
wrath  of  Heaven  and  the  awful  judgments  which 
were  reserved  for  an  ungrateful,  godless  nation,  all 
wrapt  in  the  dark  and  terrible  imagery  of  the  prophe 
cies,  I  could  almost  imagine  that  I  heard  one  of  the 
seers  of  old  telling  in  thunder-tones  his  message  of 
warning  and  denunciation  to  the  chosen  but  erring 
race. 

The  innovation  of  a  choir  had  displaced  the  good 
old  custom  of  singing  the  hymns  "  line  by  line  "  by 
the  whole  congregation.  Of  this  part  of  the  service  I 
will  say  nothing,  except  that  it  bore  no  resemblance 
which  could  shock  the  most  rigid  Puritan,  to  the 
choral  symphonies  of  the  Sistine  Chapel,  or  even  to 
the  heathenish  melody  of  that  legitimate  daughter  of 
the  old  Scarlet  Lady,  the  Church  of  England.  A  bass- 
viol  grated  its  share  of  harsh  discords  in  addition  to 
those  of  the  human  instruments,  all  of  which  together, 
if  the  science  of  music  does  not  lie,  must  have 
amounted  to  harmony.  Colonel  Wyborne,  in  the 
goodness  of  his  heart  and  the  abundance  of  his  good 
will  to  any  persons  who  earnestly  did  what  they  could 
to  assist  at  the  service  of  the  sanctuary,  though  him 
self  an  excellent  judge  of  music,  stood  up  alone  during 
the  performance,  and  encouraged  the  choristers  by 
strict  attention,  and  beating  time,  and,  when  they 
finished,  by  an  emphatic,  "  Very  well,  very  well  in- 


106  AN   OCTOGEXARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

deed ! "  audible  over  the  whole  house.  My  gravity, 
I  confess,  received  a  severe  shock,  and  I  fully  expected 
to  hear  a  general  titter  run  round  the  assembly  ;  but 
a  hurried  glance  around  satisfied  me  that  it  was  a 
usual  act  of  my  admirable  old  friend,  and  was  re 
garded  with  pride  and  pleasure  by  the  singers  and 
the  rest  of  the  congregation,  and  by  no  means  looked 
upon  as  anything  out  of  the  common  way.  This  cir 
cumstance  brought  Sir  Eoger  de  Coverley  at  once  to 
my  mind ;  and,  the  idea  being  suggested,  I  recalled 
a  good  many  points  of  resemblance  between  the  warm 
hearted  old  baronet  and  Colonel  Wyborne  ;  though 
the  latter  was  entirely  free  from  any  hallucination 
like  that  which  sometimes  sent  Sir  Roger's  wits  a 
wool-gathering. 

The  introductory  services  being  over,  the  minister 
rose  and  took  a  prefatory  look  around  at  his  flock. 
Before  giving  out  his  text,  however,  he  desired  the 
audience,  in  a  tone  of  authority  and  decision  which 
would  have  well  become  Dr.  Johnson  himself  when 
he  scolded  Boswell  for  having  a  headache,  not  to 
interrupt  the  discourse  by  coughing  or  sneezing ; 
which  ebullitions  he  assured  them  were  entirely  un 
necessary.  It  may  be  well  to  add  that  his  commands 
were  strictly  obeyed ;  thus  affording  a  new  fact  in 
support  of  Kant's  theory  of  the  power  of  the  will  over 
bodily  ailments.  This  preliminary  being  adjusted,  he 
announced  his  text,  and  proceeded  with  his  sermon. 
It  was  a  truly  masterly  production,  and  displayed 
those  remarkable  powers  which  not  long  afterwards 


AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  107 

procured  his  translation  to  the  more  congenial  atmos 
phere  of  the  metropolis.  It  was  a  work  like  one  of 
the  Pyramids ;  its  foundations,  broad  and  deep,  rest 
ing  on  eternal  and  universal  truth,  and  the  superstruc 
ture  tapering  in  sublime  simplicity  up  to  the  blessed 
duty  of  gratitude, —  massive  blocks  of  sense  and  rea 
soning  piled  regularly  in  lessening  rows  upon  one  an 
other,  and  clamped  together  by  cogent  quotations  from 
the  Greek  and  Hebrew  Scriptures  ;  all  ascending  up 
wards  to  a  single  truth,  and  making  upon  the  mind, 
undistracted  by  meretricious  ornament,  an  impression 
of  oneness,  the  feeling  of  a  grand  whole.  The  music  of 
his  intonations  and  the  harmony  of  his  gesture  are  still 
present  to  my  mind,  as  if  it  were  but  yesterday  that  he 
spoke.  He  was  listened  to  with  the  most  profound 
attention  ;  and,  when  he  ended,  his  auditory  all  seemed 
to  take  a  long  breath,  and  each  man  looked  upon  his 
neighbor  with  a  flushed  cheek  and  a  dilated  eye. 

But  one  circumstance  interrupted  the  solemnity  of 
the  discourse,  and  that  was  too  characteristic  a  one  to 
be  passed  over  in  silence.  In  the  midst  of  the  sermon 
an  unlucky  child  in  the  women's  gallery  began  to 
cry.  The  pastor  stopped  short,  turned  his  severe  eye 
upon  the  dismayed  mother,  and  sternly  said,  "  Take 
that  child  away  !  "  In  unutterable  confusion  the  poor 
woman  gathered  up  her  descendant ;  and  the  urchin, 
kicking  and  screaming  with  an  energy  worthy  of  a 
better  cause,  quickly  vanished  from  our  sight.  This 
little  episode,  however,  attracted  but  little  attention 
on  the  part  of  the  rest  of  the  audience,  and,  the  mo- 


108  AX   OCTOGEXARY  FIFTY  YEARS  SINCE. 

merit  it  was  over,  they  were  as  deeply  absorbed  as 
ever  in  the  march  of  the  discourse. 

After  the  blessing  had  been  pronounced,  the  whole 
congregation  remained  standing  in  their  places,  as  was 
their  invariable  custom,  until  Mr.  Armsby  and  Colo 
nel  Wyborne  had  left  the  house.  While  the  clergy 
man  was  making  his  preparations  for  his  departure, 
Colonel  Wyborue  left  his  pew,  and  kindly  advanced 
to  the  venerable  band  of  old  men,  and  made  friendly 
inquiries  as  to  their  well-being ;  and  I  could  catch 
the  sounds  of  their  grateful  voices  thanking  him  for 
the  bountiful  gifts  which  he  had  bestowed  upon  them 
at  this  joyful  season.  "When  Mr.  Aruisby  descended 
from  the  pulpit,  Colonel  Wyborne  took  his  arm,  and, 
giving  me  a  signal  to  follow,  slowly  left  the  house, 
courteously  inclining  his  head  to  the  right  and  left 
in  acknowledgment  of  the  respectful  salutations 
which  he  received  from  the  sturdy  farmers  on  either 
side.  We  all  three  entered  the  coach,  which  we  found 
ready  at  the  door,  and  were  soon  conveyed  to  the 
scene  of  the  solemnities  which  yet  remained  to  be 
performed  appropriate  to  the  great  New  England  fes 
tival  On  the  way,  the  conversation  was  engrossed 
by  the  two  gentlemen,  and  I  confess  that  I  regarded 
my  reverend  companion  as  a  sort  of  a  Mordecai  at 
my  gate,  and  looked  forward  with  a  kind  of  dismay 
to  the  cloud  which  he  would  bring  over  the  joyous 
festivity  which  I  had  anticipated  at  the  Thanksgiving 
table  of  my  genial  host. 

Upon  our  arrival  we  were  shown  into  the  library, 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  109 

at  either  end  of  which  a  blazing  fire  worthy  of  an  Eng 
lish  Christmas  diffused  a  generous  warmth  through 
the  apartment.  The  cheerful  heat  had  an  evident 
effect  on  the  ice  of  the  reverend  gentleman's  man 
ners  ;  for,  there  being  no  provision  made  in  those 
days  for  warming  churches,  we  were  all  glad  enough 
to  greet  the  cordial  welcome  of  the  blaze.  As  we 
walked  from  one  fireplace  to  the  other,  and  stopped 
before  each  to  imbibe  a  portion  of  its  warmth,  Mr. 
Armsby,  for  almost  the  first  time,  turned  to  me  and 
said,  "  Well,  young  gentleman,  how  do  you  like  being 
between  two  fires?"  —  a  jocular  abortion  which  I 
received  with  a  laugh  worthy  of  a  better  jest,  with 
an  explosion  which  would  not  have  discredited  a 
Schcepen  in  the  eyes  of  a  jovial  burgomaster.  The 
worthy  gentleman  evidently  took  my  laugh  in  good 
part,  and  by  being  put  on  better  terms  with  himself, 
was  disposed  to  regard  me  with  more  consideration 
than  he  had  yet  done.  He  made  some  more  rather 
cumbrous  attempts  at  jocularity,  which  being  met 
more  than  halfway  by  myself,  we  soon  rapidly  neared 
one  another,  and  before  long,  not  unassisted  by  the 
good-nature  of  our  host,  we  were  fairly  engaged  yard- 
arrn  to  yard-arm.  My  awe  of  him  gradually  melted 
away,  and,  before  Peter  made  his  appearance  with  the 
tankard  of  punch,  I  began  to  wonder  that  I  could  ever 
have  felt  any. 

As  I  have  hinted  in  the  preceding  sentence,  in  due 
time  the  door  opened,  and  the  excellent  functionary 
there  alluded  to  was  ushered  in,  bearing  with  fitting 


110  AN   OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

solemnity  upon  a  salver  the  silver  tankard,  which  in 
those  days  ever  heralded  the  serious  business  of  the 
day.  A  grateful  perfume  arose  from  its  brimming 
mouth,  and  filled  the  apartment.  Colonel  Wyborne 
received  the  fragrant  offering  at  the  hands  of  the 
sable  Ganymede,  and,  having  raised  it  to  his  lips, 
passed  it  to  his  most  honored  guest,  who  paid  it  the 
homage  of  a  deeper  libation,  and  then  consigned  it  to 
my  ingenuous  hands.  This  harbinger  of  better  things 
to  come  (now,  I  admit,  better  far  removed)  performed 
its  orbit  round  our  little  circle  with  a  rapidity  and 
regularity  which  would  have  given  a  temperance 
society  a  fit  of  deliriuin-tremeus,  until  the  last  drop 
was  drained.  Admirer  as  I  ani  of  old  customs,  I  must 
allow  that  this  was  one  which  I  am  glad  to  have  sur 
vived.  The  punch-drinking  of  a  morning,  which  our 
ancestors  looked  upon  in  the  light  of  an  innocent 
amusement,  not  to  say  of  a  positive  duty,  is  extinct, 
and  with  it  have  vanished  in  a  great  measure  the  gout, 
and  a  train  of  "  immedicable  ills"  of  which  it  was  the 
fruitful  parent.  Since  its  disappearance,  too,  drunk 
enness  is  a  vice  almost  unknown  to  the  educated 
classes ;  which  was  far  from  being  the  case  in  my 
time.  On  the  present  occasion,  however,  the  bewitch 
ing  draught  seemed  to  unlock  the  secret  source  of  a 
thousand  sympathies  till  then  unsuspected,  and  to 
bring  to  light  a  multitude  of  affinities,  unfelt  before, 
between  the  morning,  the  meridian,  and  the  even 
ing  of  life.  Under  its  deceitful  though  delicious 
enchantment,  the  barriers  which  time  and  custom 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  Ill 

had  raised  between  us,  and  which  but  a  short  time 
before  seemed  to  be  impassable,  were  levelled  with 
the  ground,  and  we  stood  side  by  side  as  friend  by 
friend. 

Precisely  as  the  hall-clock  struck  two,  Peter,  re- 
entering,  announced  dinner,  and,  marshalled  by  that 
dark  seneschal,  we  proceeded  in  due  order  to  the 
dining-room.  Mr.  Armsby  blessed  the  meal  with  a 
grace  which  seemed  at  least  sufficiently  long  to  a  hun 
gry  boy,  in  which  he  did  not  omit,  in  the  enumera 
tion  of  blessings,  the  Governor,  Council,  the  churches, 
the  college,  and  the  old  Congress.  When  he  had 
concluded,  and  we  had  taken  our  seats,  the  covers 
were  removed,  and  displayed  an  array  of  dishes  which 
would  have  seemed  preposterous  for  the  supply  of 
three  persons,  did  we  not  know  that  a  multitude  of 
retainers  were  assembled  in  the  kitchen,  eagerly 
awaiting  whatever  might  fall  from  our  table.  A  noble 
tautaug,1  with  his  tail  in  his  mouth,  lay  grimly  before 
me,  like  the  Egyptian  emblem  of  eternity.  At  the 
foot  of  the  table,  Colonel  Wyborne  was  intrenched 
behind  a  formidable  round  of  beef  d-la-mode.  A 
roast  turkey  was  stretched,  victim-like,  upon  his  back 
before  the  sacerdotal  knife  of  the  pastor  ;  while  on 
the  other  side  of  the  table  a  pair  of  boiled  chickens 
lay  patiently  awaiting  their  immersion  in  the  oyster- 
sauce  which  stood  ready  for  the  deed.  Vegetables  of 
every  description  filled  up  all  the  interstices  of  the 
well -spread  board ;  and  decanters  of  white  wine  (for 
I  Vulgarly  called  black-fish  by  the  many. 


112  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

as  yet  red  wine  was  not)  kept  watch  and  ward,  like 
tall  sentinels,  over  the  whole  scene  of  action.  Soon 
the  remains  of  the  fish  before  me  were  decently  re 
moved,  and  replaced  by  an  admirable  haunch  of  veni 
son,  attended  by  all  that  should  accompany  that  prince 
of  meats, — the  sacrificial  fires;  the  jelly,  "sweet  as 
the  smile  when  fond  lovers  meet,  and  soft  as  their 
parting  tear ; "  the  thin  parallelograms  of  toast,  brown 
as  the  Arabian  berry.  All  our  energies  were  soon 
wholly  engrossed  in  this  new  career  of  duty,  which 
we  pursued  with  an  untiring  zeal  and  indomitable 
perseverance,  which  should  have  entitled  us  to  a  high 
place  among  the  benefactors  of  mankind. 

But,  alas  !  even  venison  may  cease  to  please.  At 
least  a  foreboding  of  future  good  yet  to  be  revealed 
from  the  dark  recesses  of  the  kitchen  prompted  for 
bearance  ere  it  was  too  late.  At  length  the  viands 
which  I  have  feebly  attempted  to  describe  were  trans 
ported  from  our  eyes,  and  a  new  generation  occupied 
their  vacant  places.  The  beef  a-la-mode  suddenly 
gave  place  to  the  much-injured  bird  which  saved  the 
capitol ;  the  venison,  with  a  sigh,  yielded  its  throne 
to  a  triple  alliance  of  wild  ducks ;  a  pair  of  partridges 
dislodged  the  reluctant  turkey  ;  while  the  boiled 
chickens  with  the  attendant  oyster-sauce  fled  amain 
before  the  incursion  of  a  horde  of  lesser  "  fowl  of 
game."  The  transitory  nature  of  all  human  things 
is  well  illustrated  by  the  sentiment  of  one  of  the  hero 
ines  of  "  The  Rovers,  or  the  Double  Arrangement," 
in  the  Anti-Jacobin,  where  she  says  (I  quote  from 


AN   OCTOGEXARY  FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  113 

memory),  "  The  beef  of  to-morrow  will  succeed  to  the 
veal  of  to-day,  as  the  veal  of  to-day  has  succeeded  to 
the  mutton  of  yesterday."  But  the  flying  courses  of 
a  single  repast  bring  home  even  more  forcibly  to  the 
reflecting  mind  the  instability  of  our  most  substan 
tial  joys,  and  afford  a  lively  picture  of  the  fleeting 
generations  of  mankind,  hurrying,  like  them,  over  the 
bountifully  spread  and  richly  adorned  banquetiug- 
table  on  which  Boon  Nature  feasts  her  children. 
The  change  which  had  just  come  over  the  scene  before 
us  was  not  destined  to  endure  any  more  than  the  one 
which  had  preceded  it.  The  shining  face  of  Peter  is 
again  seen,  full  of  busy  importance,  bustling  about  the 
board.  And  now  the  table  is  cleared  ;  and  anxious 
expectation  sits  impatient  on  every  brow.  A  pause 
ensues.  The  door  opens,  and,  lo  !  he  comes,  the  Pad 
ding  of  the  Plum,  Thanksgiving  Day's  acknowledged 
chief.  He  comes,  attended,  conqueror-like,  by  the 
dethroned  monarch  of  Christmas  Day,  Mince-pie,  who 
follows,  crestfallen,  in  his  triumphal  train.  Apple- 
pie,  too,  rears  his  "  honest  soncy  face  "  in  sturdy  yeo 
man  pride.  Custard,  no  longer  "  blasphemed  through 
the  nose,"  receives  the  respectful  deference  due  to 
fallen  greatness.  And  thou,  Pumpkin-pie,  my  coun 
try's  boast,  when  I  forget  thee,  may  my  right  hand 
forget  its  cunning  !  And  Squash-pie,  too,  when  I 
refuse  to  celebrate  thy  praise,  may  my  tongue  cleave 
to  the  roof  of  my  mouth  ! 

Then  'came  the  dessert,  chiefly  composed,  from  the 
necessity  of  the  season,  of  dried  fruits  ;  but  then  such 


114  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

apples  and  such  pears  !  —  apples  for  which  Atalanta 
might  well  have  lost  her  race,  or  which  might  well 
have  been  thrown  by  Discord  among  the  gods.  The 
pears,  too  !  —  St.  Michael's  spicy  fruit,  St.  Catherine's 
immutable  glow,  —  "  the  side  that 's  next  the  sun," 
—  worthy  the  cheek  of  a  cherub  ;  St.  Germain's  celes 
tial  gust;  and  other  gentle  races  which  confer  by 
their  virtues  higher  honors  on  their  patron  saints 
than  any  they  derive  from  their  canonization. 

Then,  too,  came  from  the  subterraneous  crypts, 
where  they  had  been  confined  for  many  years,  the  im 
prisoned  spirits  whom  Wit  obeys  ;  not  those  fierce 
demons  which  are  called  into  being  amidst  the 
fierce  combustion  of  the  still,  and  which  soon  tear 
in  pieces  the  victims  whom  they  have  singled  out 
for  their  prey,  but  "delicate  spirits,"  like  the  gentle 
Ariel,  bursting  into  life  in  the  year-long  summer's 
day  of  the  Fortunate  Islands,  and  summoned  across 
the  Atlantic  waves  to  impart  their  native  summer 
to  Northern  hearts.  Alas  that  any  magicians  should 
now  be  found  who  would  fain  exorcise  them,  and 
condemn  them  to  the  fate  of  vulgar  devils !  But 
then  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  degeneracy  of 
modern  times  has  reached  even  these  ethereal  powers. 
The  grapes  of  the  present  day  do  not  express  the  same 
juice  which  gushed  from  the  veins  of  their  progeni 
tors.  Their  thin  potations  have  debauched  this 
washy  generation.  Did  the  French  philosophy  take 
root  amongst  us  before  our  clay  had  been  soaked  in 
claret  and  champagne  ?  Were  we  overrun  with  the 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  115 

weeds  of  German  metaphysics  before  the  Rhine  had 
poured  an  acid  deluge  over  the  land  ?  Talk  of  the 
schoolmaster  being  abroad  !  The  heresies  which  in 
fest  this  age  were  unknown  until  the  wine-merchant 
went  abroad. 

I  wish  that  I  could  find  it  in  my  heart  to  detain 
the  gentle  reader  from  the  perusal  of  things  better 
worth  his  reading,  and  recount  the  talk  of  that  genial 
day.  But  the  milkiness  of  my  nature  forbids.  Be 
sides,  a  separate  essay  will  not  be  too  much  to  devote 
to  the  oddities,  genius,  and  virtues  of  Richard  Arms- 
by.  He  was  a  choice  specimen  of  that  racy  class  of 
originals,  the  elder  New  England  clergy ;  men  who 
were  in  a  great  measure  raised  above  the  control  of 
public  opinion,  and  the  sharpnesses  of  whose  charac 
ters  were  not  smoothed  down  by  the  friction  of  soci 
ety,  and  the  excursions  of  whose  eccentricities  were 
checked  neither  by  the  inquisition  of  squeamish  co 
teries  nor  by  the  censure  of  a  fastidious  age.  I  have 
never  looked  upon  his  like  since  he  entered  into  his 
rest.  He  united  the  playfulness  of  Yorick  and  the 
simplicity  of  Parson  Adams  with  the  logical  acute- 
ness  of  Butler,  the  strong  sense  of  Barrow,  and  the 
redundant  imagination  of  Taylor ;  and  all  these  shin 
ing  and  solid  materials  which  went  to  make  up  the 
web  of  his  remarkable  mind  were  strongly  relieved 
by  the  dark  groundwork  of  thr  sternest  Calvinism 
upon  which  they  were  woven.  And  yet  this  man 
is  forgotten.  His  sermons,  which  should  have  con 
stituted  an  integral  portion  of  our  literature,  have 


116  AN   OCTOGEXARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

been  fated  to  "clothe  spice,  line  trunks,"  or  to  fall 
into  the  sacrilegious  hands  of  the  "oblivious  cook." 
Surely  this  was  a  man  of  whom  the  world  in  which 
he  lived  was  not  worthy. 

That  day  is  an  epoch  in  my  life,  for  it  was  the  first 
time  that  I  had  ever  listened  to  the  table-talk  of  the 
highest  description.  I  might  have  searched  the  world 
through,  and  yet  not  have  met  with  two  such  men, 
so  different  and  yet  so  admirable,  as  the  two  whom, 
the  chances  of  life  had  thrown  together  in  the  remote 
village  of  Sanfield.  I  have  since  listened  to  most  of 
the  celebrated  men  of  conversation  of  our  times,  and 
the  chimes  of  midnight  have  often  fallen  unheeded 
upon  my  ear  as  I  yielded  myself  to  the  enchantment 
of  their  eloquence  and  wit ;  but  the  remembrance  of 
that  brilliant  day  still  holds  the  first  place  among  my 
convivial  memories. 

We  remained  at  table  till  about  six  o'clock,  when 
we  returned  to  the  library,  where  tea  and  coffee  were 
served.  After  this  ceremony  was  over,  Mr.  Armsby's 
pipe  was  brought,  —  "  his  custom  always  of  an  after 
noon,"  —  and  taking,  as  it  were,  a  new  departure  from 
this  event,  he  swept  gallantly  on  through  a  sea  of 
talk,  growing  more  and  more  brilliant  as  he  went. 
At  last,  however,  ten  o'clock  came.  He  knocked  out 
the  last  ashes  of  his  pipe,  and,  taking  a  glass  more  of 
wine  as  a  stirrup-cup,  lie  prepared  for  his  departure. 
The  carriage  was  soon  at  the  door ;  and  our  charming 
friend,  for  such  I  could  not  but  regard  him  in  spite 
of  his  ministerial  dignity,  bade  us  a  cordial  good- 


AN  OCTOGENAEY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  117 

night.  As  I  attended  him  to  the  carriage,  he  warmly 
pressed  me,  nothing  loath,  to  visit  him  at  his  bache 
lor's  house. 

When  I  returned  to  the  library,  Colonel  Wyborne 
begged  to  know  whether  I  did  not  think  that  his 
prophecy  the  day  before,  of  the  change  which  a  day 
would  bring  forth  in  Mr.  Armsby,  had  not  been  ful 
filled.  I  replied  with  expressions  of  the  warmest 
admiration  of  the  qualities  of  his  reverend  friend. 
"  And  pray,  sir,"  I  added,  "  why  did  not  you  tell  me 
how  extraordinary  a  man  he  is  ? " 

"  Simply,"  he  replied  with  a  benignant  smile,  "sim 
ply  because  I  wished  to  give  you  the  pleasure  of 
finding  it  out  for  yourself." 

We  soon  separated  for  the  night ;  but  it  was  long 
after  I  had  sought  my  couch  that  the  clear  tones  of 
the  pastor's  voice  died  upon  my  ear.  The  strange 
groups  of  thought,  in  which  ideas  that  never  before 
dreamt  of  meeting  each  other  found  themselves  side 
by  side;  the  freshness  and  beauty  of  his  classic  allus 
ions,  and  the  grotesque  narrations  of  scenes  and 
characters  such  as  are  only  known  in  a  simple  and 
primitive  state  of  society,  delivered  with  a  spirit  and 
life  which  Matthews  never  surpassed,  —  all  together 
produced  a  degree  of  pleasurable  excitement  which 
drove  sleep  far  from  my  eyes.  The  walls  of  my 
solitary  chamber  rung  with  the  echoes  of  a  foregone 
merriment;  and,  if  my  pillow  were  that  night  wet 
with  tears,  they  were  the  tears 

"  Of  one  worn  out  with  mirth  and  lauerhter." 


CHAPTEE  V. 

'"T^HE  next  morning,  after  breakfast,  Colonel  Wy- 
•*-  borne  proposed  to  me  a  drive  to  the  parsonage 
to  pay  a  visit  to  Mr.  Armsby.  I  gladly  closed  with 
this  proposition,  as  my  experiences  of  the  day  before 
had  excited  a  strong  curiosity  on  my  part  to  know 
more  of  that  true  original  —  in  the  best  sense  of  the 
word.  The  coach  having  been  ordered,  my  excellent 
host,  at  my  request,  commenced  a  short  account  of 
his  reverend  friend,  which  he  concluded  as  we  drove 
towards  his  local  habitation.  His  history  was  not 
very  different  from  that  of  hosts  of  other  ornaments 
of  the  New  England  Church  and  State.  His  father 
was  a  painstaking  farmer,  who  extracted  by  the 
alchemy  of  intelligent  labor,  from  the  rocky  and  un- 
genial  soil  of  one  of  the  least  propitious  portions  of 
Massachusetts  Bay,  a  plentiful  and  comfortable  sub 
sistence  for  a  family  of  some  twelve  children.  The 
early  education  of  his  son  Richard  had  been  in  the 
school  of  agricultural  labor.  The  plough  and  the 
spade  were  the  earliest  teachers  his  rugged  intellect 
had  known.  During  the  leisure  hours  of  "  workless 
winter,"  indeed,  he  had  picked  up  the  rudiments  of 
knowledge,  and  secured  those  branches  of  learning, 
which,  according  to  high  authority,  "  come  by  nature." 


AN   OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  119 

Having  acquired  the  key  to  knowledge,  he  soon  em 
ployed  it  to  unlock  all  the  stores  which  were  within 
his  reach.  His  father's  literary  collections  were  not 
of  a  very  extensive  or  a  very  various  description.  A 
few  books  of  Puritan  divinity,  and  many  printed  ser 
mons  of  New  England  divines,  in  loose  pamphlets, 
formed  the  staple  of  his  library.  These  works,  how 
ever,  for  want  of  matter  more  attractive,  were  eagerly 
devoured.  Among  his  father's  books,  however,  was 
Cotton  Mather's  "  Magnalia,"  which  soon  became  his 
favorite  author.  His  admiration  was  excited  by  the 
display  of  learning  which  so  liberally  garnishes  those 
curious  pages ;  and  his  wonder  was  none  the  less 
because  he  could  not  detect  the  pedantry  and  bad 
taste  of  the  load  of  quotations  with  which  the  au 
thor's  original  matter  is  overlaid,  and  of  the  conceits 
in  which  he  delights  to  indulge.  To  a  boy  in  an  in 
land  town,  brought  up  in  Puritan  habits,  this  book 
was  truly  fascinating.  The  histories  of  the  worthies 
who  had  founded  or  embellished  the  infant  empire ; 
the  descriptions  of  the  persecutions  which  they  en 
dured  in  England,  and  of  the  hardships  which  they 
encountered  when  they  snatched  their  civil  and  re 
ligious  rights  to  these  bleak  and  inhospitable  shores ; 
the  stirring  descriptions  of  the  Indian  wars,  which  so 
often  threatened  destruction  to  the  whole  province, 
and  of  which  there  were  many  survivors  in  his 
neighborhood,  full  of  traditionary  lore ;  and  especially 
the  solemn  recital  of  the  mysterious  phenomena  of 
witchcraft,  of  the  wiles  of  Satan  for  the  extirpation 


120  AX   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

of  God's  people,  some  of  which,  it  must  be  confessed, 
did  but  little  credit  to  the  sagacity  of  the  arch-enemy 
—  all  these  topics  formed  fertile  themes  for  winter 
evening  study  and  for  summer  noontide  dreams. 

I  do  not  wonder  that  the  belief  in  witchcraft  took 
such  strong  hold  of  our  ancestors'  imaginations,  living 
as  they  did  in  a  country  but  half  explored,  overshad 
owed  with  primeval  forests — filled  with  heathen  foes 
and  with  savage  beasts  —  from  the  depths  of  which 
strange  sounds  came  at  midnight  upon  their  ear,  and 
whose  varying  shadows  and  lights  assumed  to  the 
superstitious  eye  of  the  wayfarer  the  grotesque  or 
ghastly  forms  of  demons  or  spectres.  There  was  an 
infinite  deal  more  romance  in  the  primitive  days  of 
our  ancestors,  planted  as  they  were  on  a  narrow 
belt  between  the  ocean  and  the  wilderness,  than  we 
can  dream  of  in  these  prosaic  days  of  steam  and 
railroads. 

Richard  Armsby's  love  of  books  early  aroused  in 
his  father's  breast  the  ambition,  which  in  those  days 
lingered  in  every  parent's  heart,  of  seeing  his  sou  one 
of  the  clergy,  one  of  the  religious  aristocracy  of  the 
land.  His  narrow  circumstances,  however,  made 
the  prospect  almost  a  hopeless  one,  until  one  day  the 
pastor  of  the  parish,  in  one  of  his  parochial  rounds, 
discovered  the  young  enthusiast  busily  employed 
with  his  favorite  volume.  It  so  happened  that  "  the 
fantastic  old  great  man"  was  a  favorite  with  the  good 
man ;  and  his  heart  warmed  towards  the  lad  when 
he  found  how  thoroughly  he  was  acquainted  with  all 


AN   OCTOGEXARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  121 

that  he  could  learn  from  that  not  too  authentic  source 
of  the  history  of  his  country.  His  father's  wishes 
and  his  own  tastes  were  soon  made  known  to  their 
several  advisers,  and  he  undertook  the  task  of  pre 
paring  the  young  man  for  college.  This  was  speedily 
accomplished  by  the  vigorous  intellect,  and  earnest 
ness  of  purpose,  of  young  Arinsby.  The  work  of 
preparation  being  finished,  he  was  despatched  to 
Cambridge,  with  but  a  small  stock  of  money,  but 
with  an  ample  supply  of  faith  and  hope.  His  strug 
gles  in  the  cause  of  good  learning  were  severe,  and 
his  heart  at  times  almost  died  within  him,  and  he 
was  more  than  once  on  the  point  of  abandoning  his 
studies.  In  a  happy  hour,  however,  he  went,  one 
winter's  vacation,  to  keep  the  village  school  of  San- 
field,  where  he  soon  attracted  the  kind  notice  of* 
Colonel  Wyborne.  The  sagacity  and  knowledge  of 
character  which  were  almost  instinctive  with  that 
excellent  gentleman,  soon  discerned  that  the  rough 
diamond  he  had  lighted  upon  was  a  gem  of  the  first 
water.  From  that  moment,  all  his  difficulties  were 
at  an  end.  His  kind  patron's  liberality  removed  all 
obstacles  from  his  way,  and  made  the  remainder  of 
his  literary  path  one  of  pleasantness.  Soon  after  his 
college  career  was  finished,  the  minister  of  Sanfield 
died ;  and  Mr.  Armsby  was  very  soon  inducted  into 
his  place,  chiefly  through  Colonel  Wyborne's  influ 
ence.  For  the  many  years  that  had  elapsed  since 
that  day,  they  had  lived  on  terms  of  the  most  cordial 
intimacy;  their  esteem  for  each  other  increasing 


122  AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

with  their  years.  Mr.  Armsby  having  never  been 
married,  their  friendly  intercourse  had  never  encoun 
tered  the  interruption  which  the  intervention  of 
Hymen  but  too  often  works  in  the  best-grounded 
friendships ;  and  I  doubt  not  that  the  minister's 
congenial  society  greatly  contributed  to  cheer  and 
prolong  his  aged  friend's  existence. 

The  substance  of  this  narrative  was  just  imparted 
as  the  carriage  drove  up  to  the  parsonage-door.  It 
was  a  very  old  building,  unpainted,  situated  just  on 
the  edge  of  the  village.  It  stood  on  a  high  bank,  at 
some  distance  from  the  road,  with  two  or  three  trees 
of  aboriginal  growth  waving  their  twisted  arms  above 
its  roof.  The  master  of  the  house  received  us  at  the 
door  with  much  formal  politeness.  On  entering  the 
front-door,  we  descended  one  step,  which  had  nearly 
been  a  step  too  much  for  me,  having  never  before 
been  greeted  with  such  a  reception  at  any  threshold 
I  had  ever  passed.  In  front  of  us  was  a  wooden  seat, 
which  opened  on  hinges,  and  displayed  a  sort  of  chest. 
The  stairs  ascended  abruptly,  almost  from  the  very 
door.  Turning  to  our  left,  we  were  ushered  into  the 
study,  which  was  almost  the  only  apartment  which 
the  solitary  minister  used  of  his  whole  house.  It 
was  a  room  of  good  size,  but  with  a  low  ceiling,  and 
a  bare  beam,  rough-shaped  with  the  axe,  passing 
through  its  length.  The  walls  were  well  covered 
with  dingy-looking  books,  most  of  them  formida 
ble  folios  of  controversial  divinity,  but  relieved  by 
excellent  editions  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  classics 


AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE.  123 

(for  Mr.  Armsby  was  a  ripe  scholar  and  a  good  one), 
and  by  some  of  the  sterling  English  authors.  There 
was  the  folio  edition  of  Shakspeare,  and  the  little 
shabby  quarto  first  edition  of  "  Paradise  Lost,"  in  ten 
books,  and  there  was  the  first  edition  of  Burton's 
"  Anatomy,"  which  I  had  ever  seen.  A  wooden  arm 
chair  with  a  leaf  to  it  was  the  throne  of  the  sover 
eign  of  the  domain.  A  few  wooden  chairs  —  of 
various  shapes,  and  apparently  of  different  epochs  in 
the  colonial  history,  but  none  of  which  would  have 
excited  the  envy  of  a  Sybarite  —  were  scattered  about 
the  room  in  a  somewhat  dusty  confusion.  A  deal 
table  or  so,  and  a  woodbox,  completed  the  furniture 
of  the  apartment.  The  floor  was  unconscious  of  a 
carpet,  and  to  all  appearance  had  been  long  innocent 
of  the  knowledge  of  the  virtues  of  soap  and  fair 
water.  The  hearth  was  of  red  brick,  on  which  was 
built  a  wood  fire  of  exemplary  brightness.  The 
bricks  of  the  chimney-back,  to  be  sure,  had  yielded 
to  the  hand  of  time  ("  What  will  not  Time  subdue ! ") 
but  then  one  of  them  afforded  a  timely  aid  to  one  of 
the  andirons,  which,  in  the  course  of  many  years' 
service,  had  lost  a  leg.  The  neatness  of  the  whole 
establishment  did  not  certainly  afford  much  room  for 
commendation ;  but  then,  as  no  commendations  were 
expected  or  desired,  it  was  of  the  less  consequence. 

Our  reverend  host  having  resigned  his  chair  of 
state  to  his  honored  guest,  and  provided  himself  and 
me  with  humbler  stools,  we  all  drew  up  cheerfully 
to  the  fire,  and  talked  merrily  over  the  day  before. 


124  AX   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

Though  the  manner  of  Mr.  Armsby  towards  ine  was 
not  distinguished  by  the  convivial  freedom  of  the  day 
before,  still  it  was  entirely  free  from  the  austerity 
and  coldness  which  marked  it  at  our  first  acquaint 
ance.  It  was  now  just  what  the  demeanor  of  a  gen 
tleman  of  his  time  of  life,  and  standing  in  society, 
should  be  towards  a  lad  of  eighteen,  —  kind,  affable, 
without  being  familiar  or  free  ;  which  made  me  feel 
perfectly  at  my  ease  in  his  company,  and  yet  which 
made  it  perfectly  impossible  for  me  to  forget  the 
distance  which  separated  us. 

After  we  had  discussed  a  variety  of  topics,  which 
he  treated  in  a  manner  to  show  that  wine  and  was 
sail  had  nothing  to  do  with  his  powers  of  entertain 
ment,  he  inquired  about  my  plans  for  returning  to 
Cambridge.  I  informed  him  that  I  must  set  forth 
early  the  next  morning  in  order  to  reach  the  arms  of 
my  Alma  Mater  before  night.  As,  in  the  course  of 
the  conversation  which  ensued  on  the  subject,  I 
expressed  no  great  satisfaction  in  the  prospect  be 
fore  me,  of  a  twenty-miles'  ride  upon  a  sorry  hack, 
Colonel  Wyborue  seemed  to  be  suddenly  struck  with 
a  new  idea,  which  he  uttered  to  this  effect :  "  It  never 
occurred  to  me  before ;  but  I  think  that  I  can  save 
you  that  tedious  ride,  if  you  have  no  objection  to  an 
expedition  in  a  row-boat." 

I  assured  him  that  boating  was  one  of  my  choicest 
amusements,  and  awaited  with  some  curiosity  to 
know  the  nature  of  his  proposition. 

"  If  that  be  the  case,"  said  he,  "  I  think,  that,  as 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  125 

the  weather  is  so  fine,  we  can  manage  it  in  this  way. 
I  will  take  my  boat,  and  accompany  you  to  my  farm 
on  Vincents  Island  this  afternoon,  where  we  will 
spend  the  night  ;  and  to-morrow  you  shall  continue 
your  row  up  to  Boston,  while  I  await  the  return  of 
my  boat." 

"  But  my  horse  ? " 

"  Oh,  John  can  take  him  home  on  Monday,  on  his 
way  to  town  :  it  will  be  but  a  few  miles  out  of  his 
way." 

The  only  difficulty  in  the  way  being  thus  obviated, 
I  most  heartily  concurred  in  the  plan,  which  prom 
ised  to  substitute  a  cheerful  ride  over  the  waves  for 
a  dreary  one  over  the  high-road,  and,  besides,  to  give 
me  nearly  a  whole  day  to  myself  in  Boston.  These 
preliminaries  being  adjusted,  Mr.  Armsby  was  invited 
to  make  one  of  our  water- party,  with  which  proposi 
tion  he  readily  closed,  to  our  general  satisfaction. 

The  conversation  turning  upon  the  early  colonial 
times,  Mr.  Armsby  displayed  in  that  most  curious 
portion  of  history  a  minuteness  of  erudition  which 
I  had  never  before  seen  exhibited.  It  was  evidently 
his  hobby,  and  he  caracoled  and  curvetted  upon  it 
in  a  manner  which  excited  my  wonder  and  delight. 
He  displayed  many  curious  manuscripts  of  the  fath 
ers,  illustrative  of  their  history,  and  several  of  the  old 
Indian  deeds  and  treaties.  In  his  library,  too,  were 
many  books  which  the  Pilgrims  had  made  the  chosen 
companions  of  their  wanderings  and  exile,  rendered 
more  precious  by  copious  marginal  notes,  which  it 


126  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

would  have  puzzled  the  younger  Champollion  him 
self  to  decipher.  lu  a  walk  which  we  took  together 
round  his  house,  he  pointed  out  the  scene  of  a  bloody 
fight  with  the  Indians,  and  showed  many  perforations 
in  the  walls  of  his  house,  made  by  the  bullets  of  the 
savage  foe.  Then  there  was  the  pear-tree  which 
Elder  Brewster  planted  with  his  own  hands,  and  the 
very  oak  under  which  Captain  Miles  Standish  and 
his  little  company  bivouacked  on  the  night  of  their 
return  from  the  discomfiture  of  Morton  and  his 
rabble  rout  at  Merry  Mount.  The  interest  which 
I  took  in  these  relics  of  the  last  age,  and  the  atten 
tion  which  I  gave  to  his  commentaries  upon  them, 
evidently  raised  me  many  degrees  in  his  estimation, 
and  laid  the  foundation  of  a  friendship  which  only 
ended  with  his  life. 

After  a  visit  of  nearly  two  hours,  we  took  our 
leave,  having  first  arranged  that  Mr.  Armsby  should 
join  me  at  dinner,  so  as  to  be  ready  for  our  excursion. 
We  then  returned  home,  and  were  duly  joined  at  an 
early  hour  by  our  reverend  friend.  The  airy  prologue 
of  the  punch,  the  grave  drama  of  the  dinner,  and 
the  cheerful  epilogue  of  the  madeira,  being  over,  it 
was  announced  that  the  tide  served,  and  the  boat  was 
in  readiness.  We  accordingly  proceeded  on  foot  to 
the  shore,  John  and  Peter  following  us  with  our 
cloaks  and  luggage.  We  took  a  little  different  route 
from  the  one  which  Colonel  Wyborne  and  I  had  fol 
lowed  on  the  first  day  of  our  visit,  and  bent  our  steps 
towards  the  mouth  of  the  little  stream  which  washed 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY    YEARS   SINCE.  127 

his  estate,  on  the  banks  of  which  the  boat-house  was 
built.  On  arriving  at  the  place  of  embarkation,  we 
found  the  boat  launched,  and  the  four  boatmen  —  two 
black  and  two  white  —  resting  on  their  oars,  awaiting 
our  arrival.  Our  places  were  soon  taken  :  Peter,  with 
our  luggage  and  a  stupendous  hamper  of  provisions 
and  wine  for  the  voyage,  was  seated  in  a  grinning 
delight;  and  the  "trim-built  wherry"  was  speedily 
dancing  over  the  crests  of  the  wave. 

The  afternoon  was  more  like  one  in  May  than  one 
on  the  very  brink  of  winter.  The  sun  shone  brightly  ; 
the  sea  was  placid  as  a  land-locked  bay  or  inland 
lake ;  the  sea-fowl  hovered  above  or  about  us,  or 
dived  beneath  the  billows  ;  while  in  the  distance  the 
white  sails  glided  like  happy  spirits  among  the  islands 
of  the  blessed.  The  scene  was  one  full  of  quiet  and 
of  tranquillizing  beauty,  which  rather  provoked  revery 
than  conversation.  A  favorable  breeze  soon  springing 
up,  the  mast  was  fixed  in  its  place ;  and  the  sail,  given 
to  the  gale,  soon  made  us  leap  forward  on  our  course 
with  a  new  alacrity.  Our  voyage  was  pursued  in 
silence,  only  broken  by  occasional  exclamations  at 
the  beautiful  effects  of  light  and  shade  caused  by  the 
floating  clouds,  and  at  the  varying  hues  of  the  dis 
tant  ocean.  The  sun  set  before  we  had  reached  our 
port,  and,  wrapping  ourselves  in  our  cloaks,  we  sat 
watching  the  stars  emerging  from  their  ocean-bed, 
and  beginning  the  solemn  procession  which  nightly 
moves  in  sublime  order  around  "  this  dim  spot  called 
earth." 


128  AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

Colonel  Wyborne  seemed  to  be  buried  in  deepest 
revery,  sad  yet  not  melancholy,  as  if  the  magic  of 
the  scene  had  conjured  up  to  his  half-dreaming  eye  — 

"  The  spectres  which  no  exorcism  can  bind, 
The  cold,  the  changed,  perchance  the  dead,  tcryiew 
The  mourned,  the  loved,  the  lost  —  too  many,  yet  how  few  ! 

We  respected  the  meditative  mood  of  our  venerable 
friend,  and  sat  in  silence  till  the  boat  reached  her 
destined  haven;  when  the  oarsmen  unshipped  the 
mast,  and  pulled  stoutly  for  the  little  mole  which 
was  projected  into  the  sea. 

We  were  soon  disembarked,  and  on  our  way  to  the 
farmhouse  of  Colonel  Wyborne,  which  was  occupied 
by  an  excellent  man  and  his  wife,  now  just  beginning 
to  feel  the  hand  of  time,  who  had  lived  in  the  sea- 
girdled  home  for  the  chief  of  their  days.  They 
received  us  with  many  demonstrations  of  kindness 
and  respect,  and  seemed  in  nowise  disconcerted  by 
our  unexpected  arrival.  Indeed,  the  ample  supplies 
of  provisions  which  our  commissary  Peter  brought 
along  with  him  removed  all  hospitable  apprehensions 
as  to  our  due  alimentation.  We  were  received  in  the 
ample  kitchen  of  the  farmhouse,  which  was  illumi 
nated  by  a  blazing  pile  of  logs,  roaring  up  a  volcano 
of  a  chimney,  and  diffusing  a  ruddy  light  and  cheer 
ful  warmth  throughout  the  apartment.  We  were 
soon  comfortably  established  by  the  genial  fireside, 
while  the  goodwife  was  busily  employed  in  prepar 
ing  our  evening  meal.  When  our  repast  was  ready, 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  129 

and  we  had  taken  our  places  at  the  table,  Colonel 
Wyborne  still  seemed  absorbed  in  his  dreaming  mood, 
and  was  evidently  in  spirit  far  away  from  the  wave- 
washed  islet  where  he  was  present  in  the  body.  His 
silence  imposed  an  unavoidable  restraint  upon  Mr. 
Armsby  and  myself.  At  last,  however,  he  seemed  to 
ronse  from  his  revery,  and,  looking  up  at  us,  said,  — 

"  I  know  that  you  will  think  dotage  has  come 
rapidly  upon  me,  when  I  tell  you  of  the  resolution 
which  I  have  been  forming.  But  my  mind  is  made 
up  :  I  go  to  Boston  to-night." 

"  To  Boston  to-night ! "  exclaimed  in  one  breath 
both  his  companions ;  both,  no  doubt,  a  little  sus 
picious  that  something  was  out  of  joint  in  the  good 
old  gentleman's  intellectuals. 

"  Even  so,"  replied  he  in  his  blandest  but  most 
determined  manner.  "  It  is  now  fifty  years  since  I 
saw  my  native  city,  and  I  once  thought  that  nothing 
could  induce  me  to  visit  it  again ;  but  a  strange  im 
pulse,  which  I  have  often  felt  before,  urges  me  with 
an  almost  irresistible  force  to  see  once  more,  before  I 
die,  the  scene  of  my  early  days  and  of  the  short 
lived  happiness  of  my  prime  of  manhood." 

"  But  why  to-night  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Armsby. 

"  Because,"  he  replied,  "  it  may  be  my  last  night. 
This  strange  possession  often  comes  over  me,  some 
times  in  my  solitary  walks,  or  lonely  musings  in  my 
library,  but  most  frequently  in  those  wakeful  hours 
of  nights  which  form  a  heavy  share  of  the  burden  of 
old  age.  I  feel  that  to-night  the  craving  may  be 
9 


130  AN   OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

satisfied,  and  that,  if  I  neglect  to  use  this  night, 
another  opportunity  may  never  come  to  me." 

"  But  I  do  not  exactly  comprehend  your  plan,  my 
dear  sir,"  observed  his  reverend  companion. 

"  It  is  this,"  he  replied.  "  The  moon  will  rise  in 
an  hour :  in  three  hours  \ve  may  reach  the  town. 
I  propose  to  land  after  all  the  inhabitants  have  de 
serted  the  streets,  and  to  revisit  my  old  familiar 
haunts  by  moonlight,  and  then  return  before  the 
earliest  stirrer  is  abroad." 

Mr.  Armsby  in  vain  represented  to  him  the  fatigue, 
the  sleepless  night,  the  night-air,  the  mental  excite 
ment,  which  the  execution  of  his  scheme  would 
bring  upon  himself.  His  heart  seemed  to  be  set 
upon  the  plan ;  and  he  expressed  his  determination 
to  accomplish  the  adventure  by  himself,  if  we  de 
clined  accompanying  him.  This,  of  course,  was  not 
to  be  thought  of ;  and,  his  resolution  being  taken,  we 
prepared  to  accompany  him  on  his  singular  expedi 
tion.  Mr.  Armsby  very  evidently  did  not  much 
relish  the  idea  of  exchanging  his  snug  corner  of  the 
chimney  in  possession,  and  his  comfortable  bed  in 
prospect,  for  a  damp,  chilly  row  of  three  or  four 
hours  by  moonlight.  I,  on  the  other  hand,  was  just 
of  an  age  to  enjoy  anything  which  had  the  appear 
ance  of  novelty  and  the  air  of  romance. 

Our  trusty  boatmen  were  speedily  roused  from 
their  lair,  and  ordered  upon  this  new  and  unexpected 
service.  They  were  soon  in  readiness;  and  we  all 
re-embarked,  as  well  protected  against  the  night-air 


AN   OCTOGENAEY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE  131 

as  broadcloth  could  make  us.  As  soon  as  we  had 
pushed  off,  and  cleared  the  shadow  of  the  island, 
we  saw  the  moon,  "  rising  in  clouded  majesty"  just 
above  the  waves,  and  shedding  a  long  and  tremulous 
line  of  light  upon  the  dancing  waters.  The  scene 
was  truly  enchanting.  The  slight  murmur  of  the 
waves,  the  measured  dip  of  the  flashing  oars,  and  the 
distant  bark  of  the  watchdog  of  the  island  we  were 
leaving  behind  us,  were  all  the  sounds  which  broke 
the  stillness  of  the  midnight  sea.  The  light,  fleecy 
clouds  which  accompanied  the  appearance  of  heaven's 
"  apparent  Queen "  were  soon  dispersed,  and  she 
shone  forth  in  matchless  lustre.  The  magic  air 
which  her  silver  light  gave  to  the  whole  world  of 
waters  was  the  more  charming  to  us  who  had  just 
seen  the  orb  of  day  sink  in  a  sea  of  molten  gold. 
The  stars  stood  out  from  the  firmament  with  all 
the  sharpness  and  distinctness  of  a  winter's  night; 
while  the  glimmering  lights  twinkled  at  unequal 
intervals  from  the  line  of  coast  along  which  we 
skirted,  and  the  numerous  islands  amidst  which  we 
threaded  our  devious  way. 

Thus  we  sped  along,  for  the  chief  of  the  way  in 
silence,  till  at  length  we  shot  under  the  guns  of  the 
Castle,  and  the  town  lay  before  us,  seen  dimly  in 
the  uncertain  moonlight.  As  we  glided  along  to  the 
measured  music  of  the  oars,  Colonel  Wyborne's  eyes 
were  fixed,  with  an  earnestness  almost  painful,  upon 
the  shadowy  mass  of  buildings  in  the  distance.  His 
thoughts  were,  doubtless,  transported  to  the  day,  half 


132  AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

a  century  before,  when  he  last  approached  his  native 
town  by  sea.  How  different  the  circumstances  under 
which  he  approached  it  then  and  now  !  Then,  in  the 
pride  of  manhood,  he  walked  over  the  waters  in  a 
gallant  ship,  in  the  clear  light  of  an  autumnal  day. 
The  wife  of  his  love  was  by  his  side ;  troops  of  wel 
coming  friends  stretched  out  their  arms  from  the 
shore  to  hail  the  wanderer's  return.  Though  he  had 
spent  many  years  amidst  the  superb  cities  and  mag 
nificent  ruins  of  Europe,  and  had  dwelt  as  a  familiar 
friend  in  the  bosom  of  the  most  gorgeous  scenery  and 
time-hallowed  relics  of  a  classic  world,  still  it  seemed 
to  his  true  heart  as  if  he  had  never  gazed  upon  a 
scene  so  lovely  or  so  beloved  as  was  present  to  his 
filial  eyes  as  he  drew  near  his  native  land.  Now,  in 
the  spectral  light  of  the  moon,  he  glided  like  a  ghost 
to  haunt  the  scenes  of  his  former  happiness.  The 
wife  of  his  bosom,  whose  gentle  hand  was  clasped  in 
'his  when  he  last  moved  over  those  waves,  had  been 
for  fifty  years  the  latest  tenant  of  his  ancestral  vault. 
The  numerous  friends  whose  cordial  grasp  welcomed 
him  home  were,  with  scarcely  an  exception,  long 
since  gone  from  earth ;  and  the  few  survivors  were, 
like  him,  transformed  from  men  of  the  prime  to  faint 
old  men  just  tottering  on  the  brink  of  the  grave.  A 
thousand  recollections  of  buried  love,  of  vanished 
youth,  of  half-forgotten  friends,  of  well-remembered 
griefs,  of  blighted  hopes,  of  transitory  joys,  crowded 
upon  his  musing  soul. 

At  last  the  prow  of  our  boat  struck  the  stairs  of 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  133 

the  Long  "Wharf,  and  our  voyage  was  ended.  Just 
at  that  moment,  the  clock  of  the  Old  South  Church 
struck  twelve,  and  was  answered  from  the  towers  of 
all  the  other  churches  in  long-drawn-out,  but  sweet 
and  solemn  tones.  Mr.  Armsby  and  I  assisted  Colo 
nel  Wyborne  to  disembark,  who  then,  leaning  upon 
our  arms  on  either  side,  commenced  his  strange  and 
melancholy  pilgrimage.  The  fifty  years  which  had 
elapsed  since  his  departure  from  Boston  had  wrought 
none  of  those  changes  in  the  appearance  of  the  town 
which  the  spells  of  modern  speculation  have  in  these 
latter  days  often  worked  in  a  single  lustrum.  The 
aspect  of  the  place  was  almost  unchanged.  The  popu 
lation  had  scarcely  increased  during  that  period,  and 
the  small  addition  had  been  contented  to  fix  their 
habitations  upon  the  large  extent  of  unoccupied 
ground  within  the  peninsula,  without  laying  their 
parricidal  hands  upon  the  roofs  which  had  sheltered 
their  fathers.  As  we  slowly  proceeded  up  King 
(now  State)  Street,  there  were  to  be  seen  on  either 
side  the  same  dwellings  which  our  aged  friend  had 
left  when  he  took  his  last  leave  of  the  metropolis. 
How  different  was  that  scene  from  the  one  which  the 
same  ground  now  presents !  Now  it  is  metamor 
phosed  into  one  great  granite  temple  to  Mammon, 
whose  pavements  are  worn  by  the  frequent  feet  of  his 
busy  worshippers.  The  household  gods  have  fled 
from  its  precincts ;  the  fire  is  quenched  on  the  domes 
tic  altar ;  the  voice  of  woman  and  the  laugh  of  child 
hood  are  there  heard  no  more.  But  on  that  nig] it, 


134  AN   OCTOGENABY  FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE. 

more  than  half  a  century  since,  the  moon  which 
looked  down  upon  the  sleeping  city  bathed  in  her 
silver  beams  a  multitude  of  happy  homes.  The 
houses,  substantial  yet  elegant,  stood  betwixt  ample 
courtyards  in  front,  and  trim  gardens  behind.  Old 
trees  overshadowed  them  ;  shrubs  and  flowers  in  their 
season  adorned  them.  Hospitality  and  religion  sanc 
tified  them.  Now  how  changed  ! 

As  we  gained  the  end  of  the  wharf,  and  entered  the 
inhabited  street,  Colonel  Wyborne  seemed  scarcely  to 
notice  the  familiar  habitations  of  his  friends  on  either 
side,  but  with  a  hurried  step  pressed  forward  toward 
the  house  in  which  he  was  born,  and  which  was  his 
home  during  his  brief  abode  in  Boston.  It  was 
situated  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  street.  It 
stood  on  the  highest  of  three  terraces  of  moderate 
height,  and  was  approached  by  as  many  flights  of 
stone  steps,  guarded  on  either  side  by  iron  balus 
trades,  of  the  fashion  of  the  beginning  of  the  century. 
The  grounds  on  either  side  were  planted  with  ever 
greens,  and  numerous  trees  of  ornament  and  shade. 
A  heavy  iron  gate  admitted  you  within  the  court 
yard.  The  house  itself  was  of  brick,  painted  of  a 
cream-color,  Corinthian  pilasters  reaching  from  the 
ground  to  the  eaves,  and  with  grotesque  faces  looking 
from  the  tops  of  the  windows. 

When  we  had  reached  the  house,  our  venerable 
companion  paused  in  manifest  emotion.  For  a  mo 
ment  he  laid  hold  of  the  iron  bars  of  the  gate  for 
support ;  but  his  spirits  soon  rallied,  and  he  regarded 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  135 

the  happy  home  of  his  childhood  and  of  his  married 
life  with  sad  composure.  Strangers  now  inhabited 
those  apartments  which  were  associated  with  his 
earliest  memories.  Other  children  played  in  the 
grounds  which  were  his  childish  empire.  Other 
hearts  which  he  knew  not,  and  which  knew  not  him, 
were  happy  in  the  charities  of  domestic  life  within 
those  walls  that  had  witnessed  his  happiest  days. 
Long  he  stood  gazing  upon  that  beloved  home.  He 
seemed  to  forget  our  presence,  and  to  be  in  the  midst 
of  another  age  and  a  former  generation.  I  have 
witnessed  many  strange  scenes  in  the  course  of  my 
pilgrimage ;  but  none  that  I  have  seen  returns  upon 
my  memory  so  often,  or  seems  so  extraordinary,  as 
that  moonlight  walk.  The  attenuated  form  and 
pallid  features  of  our  friend  might  well  have  befitted 
an  inhabitant  of  another  world,  returned  to  revisit 
by  the  glimpses  of  the  moon  the  spot  on  earth  he 
loved  the  best.  The  superstition  which  believes  that 
the  spirits  of  the  departed  hover  over  those  places 
loved  while  on  earth  is  one  which  even  enlightened 
natures  have  loved  to  indulge ;  but  it  is  a  chimera 
born  of  ignorance  and  fear.  The  blessed  spirit 
which  has  put  off "  the  vesture  of  decay,"  and  bro 
ken  the  fleshy  chain  that  linked  it  to  earth,  yearns 
not  for  the  little  point  of  space  around  which  its 
mortal  affections  clustered.  If  it  ever  returns  to  this 
visible  sphere,  it  is  the  chambers  of  the  human  heart 
that  it  haunts ;  it  is  the  beloved  souls  yet  in 
prison  that  it  visits,  and  strengthens  for  the  strug- 


136  AN   OCTOGENAEY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

gles  of  earth,  which  are  to  fit  them  for  the  crowns 
of  heaven. 

As  we  stood  gazing  at  the  old  mansion,  a  female 
form  with  a  light  in  her  hand  passed  across  one  of 
the  windows,  thus  giving  us  assurance  that  the  house 
was  yet  tenanted  by  more  material  forms  than  those 
of  memory  and  fancy.  The  circumstance  seemed  to 
strike  palpably  upon  Colonel  Wyborne's  heart,  and 
to  give  vitality,  as  it  were,  to  his  dream  of  the  past. 
It  seemed  for  a  moment  as  if  he  had  only  to  open  the 
door,  and  to  walk  into  the  midst  of  his  long-buried 
household  joys.  But  the  mood  soon  passed  away,  and 
he  slowly  turned  his  fixed  regard  from  his  former 
home,  and,  resuming  his  hold  upon  his  companions, 
proceeded  up  the  street.  He  now  observed  on  either 
hand  the  former  residences  of  his  early  friends,  every 
one  of  which  had  passed  into  other  hands,  through  the 
lapse  of  time,  or  the  chances  and  changes  of  the  Eev- 
olution.  He  paused  to  contemplate  the  old  Town 
House  (then  the  State  House),  which  was  and  is 
full  of  the  memory  of  old  colonial  quarrels  between 
the  royal  Governors  and  their  Legislatures,  and  of 
the  machinery  which  set  the  ball  of  the  Revolution  in 
motion.  This  historic  edifice  still  stands,  as  little 
changed  as  could  be  expected  when  we  know  that  it 
is  at  the  mercy  of  a  civic  board. 

We  then  stopped  for  a  moment  before  the  Old 
Brick  Church,  almost  opposite  the  Town  House,  and 
surveyed  with  reverence  the  oldest  building  erected 
by  our  fathers  for  the  worship  of  God.  We  then 


AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  137 

passed  along  Cornhill  to  the  Province  House,  then 
degraded  from  being  the  residence  of  the  representa 
tives  of  royalty  to  some  plebeian  use,  but  still  stand 
ing,  unshorn  of  any  of  its  externals  of  rank.  The 
trees  still  waved  in  the  courtyard ;  and  the  iron  fence 
which  had  surrounded  it  for  more  than  a  century  still 
seemed  to  tell  the  vulgar  to  keep  their  distance. 
Many  a  festive  image  was  called  up  before  the  mind's 
eye  of  our  companion  by  the  sight  of  this  scene  of 
provincial  grandeur. 

We  then  continued  our  walk  until  we  came  to  the 
house  of  my  good  aunt  Champion,  which  had  received 
him  and  his  bride  under  its  hospitable  roof  on  his  first 
arrival  from  Europe.  This  was  almost  the  only  one 
of  all  the  habitations  of  his  many  kindred  and  friends 
which  had  not  passed  into  strange  hands.  The  sight 
of  its  well-remembered  walls  seemed  for  a  moment  to 
shake  his  resolution  of  returning  to  his  retirement 
without  revealing  his  presence  to  any  of  his  friends. 
But  the  settled  habit  of  seclusion  was  stronger  than 
his  wish  to  see  his  dear  old  friend.  The  thought,  too, 
of  the  twenty  years  which  had  elapsed  since  they  had 
met,  perhaps  brought  to  his  mind  the  changes  which 
years  had  worked  in  both  of  them,  which  would 
make  their  last  interview  on  the  shore  of  time  one  of 
melancholy  emotions  as  well  as  of  sad  recollections. 
We  then  proceeded  across  the  Common  to  the  foot 
of  Beacon  Hill,  a  natural  monument,  which  in  an 
evil  hour  was  torn  from  its  firm  base,  and  buried  in 
the  sea,  to  glut  the  insane  cravings  of  the  monster 


138  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

speculation,  which  threatens  to  swallow  up  our 
land. 

At  this  distance  of  time  I  cannot  recall  all  the 
particulars  of  our  midnight  ramble.  I  remember 
pausing  to  see  the  princely  mansions  of  the  Bowdoins, 
Faneuils,  the  Vassals,  sleeping  in  the  moonlight. 
Opposite  the  Faneuil  House  was  the  King's  Chapel 
churchyard,  in  a  distant  corner  of  which  slumbered 
whatever  remained  of  Maria  Wyborne.  The  gate 
was  locked,  so  that  we  could  not  enter  the  gloomy 
precinct ;  but  Colonel  Wyborne  pointed  out  to  us  the 
spot  with  an  almost  cheerful  air,  as  he  added,  — 

"  But  a  few  days,  and  the  gates  of  the  resting-place 
of  my  fathers  will  close  forever  on  the  last  of  their 
race." 

We  visited,  too,  the  North  End,  then  as  now  the 
most  populous  portion  of  the  town  ;  and  as  we 
threaded  its  narrow  streets,  many  well-known  thresh 
olds  greeted  the  eyes  of  the  time-worn  pilgrim, 
which  he  had  often  passed  in  gay  or  in  serious  mood. 
Passing  hastily  by  them,  however,  and  stopping  but 
a  moment  before  the  former  residence  of  Cotton 
Mather,  his  early  pastor,  we  hastened  back  to  the 
wharf  through  some  of  the  devious  lanes  which  Colo 
nel  Wyborne  seemed  to  remember  as  distinctly  as  if 
he  had  passed  through  them  but  yesterday.  He 
seemed  exhausted  by  the  fatigue  of  the  unusual  walk 
and  by  the  conflicting  emotions  which  agitated  his 
soul  We  emerged  into  King  Street  from  an  alley 
about  opposite  his  house.  He  stood  earnestly  look- 


AN   OCTOGENARY   FIFTY   YEARS   SINCE.  139 

ing  his  last  at  the  place  he  loved  so  well,  and  then 
turned  sadly  away  to  return  to  the  home  of  his  de 
clining  years.  His  heart  seemed  too  full  for  words  ; 
but,  as  he  slowly  walked  down  the  wharf,  he  pressed 
my  arm,  and  said  almost  inarticulately,  — 

"  Tell  my  dear  friend,  Mrs.  Champion,  what  I  have 
done  and  seen  to-night,  and  tell  her  that  I  shall  spend 
the  remainder  of  my  few  days  in  more  content  and 
satisfaction  for  this  night's  ramble.  The  earnest 
longing  of  my  heart  to  see  once  more  these  beloved 
scenes  is  satisfied,  and  I  shall  die  content." 

When  we  had  reached  the  spot  where  our  boat  was 
in  waiting,  my  revered  friend  tenderly  embraced  me 
in  his  aged  arms,  and,  giving  me  a  tremulous  "  God 
bless  you  ! "  sunk  into  his  place,  and  supported  him 
self  on  the  shoulder  of  his  faithful  servant.  Mr. 
Armsby  took  his  leave  with  a  cordial  grasp  of  the 
hand,  and  hastened  to  assume  his  seat.  The  oars  fell 
with  a  sudden  plash  into  the  water,  and  the  boat  was 
soon  gliding  over  the  waves  far  from  the  shore.  I 
stood  and  watched  its  departing  course  as  long  as  the 
flashing  of  the  oars  in  the  moonbeams  indicated  its 
pathway.  At  length  nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  the 
gleaming  of  the  moonlight  on  the  waves,  and  I  turned 
away  in  an  inexplicable  frame  of  mind,  in  which  it 
seemed  to  me  as  if  I  \vere  but  just  awaking  from  a 
strange  mysterious  dream. 

I  returned  up  the  street,  with  my  portmanteau  in 
my  hand,  and  after  some  difficulty  procured  admission 
at  the  Bunch  of  Grapes,  a  hostelry  of  no  mean  fame 


140  AN  OCTOGENARY   FIFTY  YEARS   SINCE. 

in  its  day.  The  next  day  I  spent  with  my  good  aunt 
Champion,  whose  faith  was  hardly  sufficient  to  make 
her  credit  my  story  of  her  old  friend  having  actually, 
but  a  few  hours  before,  been  looking  up  at  her  win 
dows.  Before  night,  I  returned  to  my  chambers  at 
Cambridge,  with  a  fund  of  cheerful  and  of  sadder 
images  over  which  to  brood  at  leisure,  and  which,  at 
the  end  of  half  a  century,  still  return  in  clearest 
vision  upon  my  memory  whenever  I  call  to  mind 
my  visit  to  AN  OCTOGENARY  FIFTY  YEARS  SINCE. 


THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 


THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT; 

A  TRADITION    OF    THE   SIEGE   OF    BOSTON. 


CHAPTER    I. 

"  "D  Y  Jove,  the  ghost  has  a  good  taste  in  quarters ! " 
-*— '  exclaimed  the  young  Captain  Hazlehurst,  as 
he  stood  with  his  back  to  a  rousing  fire  (in  "  a  gentle 
manly  attitude,"  like  Mrs.  Todgers),  and  complacently 
surveyed  the  comfortable  apartment  of  which  he  had 
just  taken  possession.  And  indeed  there  were  few 
gentlemen  of  his  rank  in  his  Majesty's  army  that 
were  better  lodged  than  he.  It  was  a  spacious  room, 
on  what  Americans  call  the  second,  and  Englishmen 
the  first,  floor  of  a  large  old-fashioned  house,  situated 
in  a  narrow  street  leading  out  of  Hanover  Street,  far 
down  in  the  depths  of  the  "  North  End  "  of  Boston. 
The  house  had  been  the  residence  of  a  patriotic  gen 
tleman,  who  had  found  it  convenient  to  take  his 
departure  in  such  speed  from  the  town,  as  the  siege 
was  fast  enclosing  it  in  its  iron  embrace,  that  he  had 
left  all  his  furniture  and  appliances  of  luxurious  life 
behind  him  as  they  stood.  Several  officers  of  higher 
rank  than  its  present  occupant  had  successively  in- 


144  THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

habited  it,  but,  on  one  pretence  or  another,  they  had 
all  of  them  in  succession  exchanged  it  for  other  quar 
ters.  They  gave  no  credit,  not  they,  to  the  foolish 
stories  which  were  rife  among  the  common  people 
and  the  soldiery,  to  the  discredit  of  the  character  of 
the  house.  They  begged  it  might  be  understood  that 
it  was  no  superstitious  folly  that  caused  the  shifting 
of  their  quarters ;  but  then,  it  was  too  far  from  parade, 
or  it  was  in  too  confined  a  situation,  or  the  kitchen 
chimney  smoked,  or  there  was  some  other  very  suffi 
cient  reason  for  the  removal. 

And  let  no  one  think  the  worse  of  those  gallant 
gentlemen,  if  their  actual  motives  did  not  exactly 
correspond  with  these  plausible  pretences.  Many  a 
hero  has  been  afraid  to  go  to  bed  in  the  dark,  and 
many  a  fire- eater,  who  would  storm  a  battery  of 
cannon  without  flinching,  might  be  frightened  out  of 
his  wits  by  a  white  sheet  and  a  drag-chain.  At  least 
it  was  so  in  the  good  old  times,  before  ghosts  were 
snubbed,  and  sent  to  Coventry ;  when  they  were 
welcomed  with  a  fearful  joy  to  the  drawing-room  fire 
side,  and  before  they  were  injuriously  driven  thence, 
first  to  the  nursery,  and  thence  again  to  the  servants' 
hall,  and  at  last  reduced  to  scour  out  kettles,  on  their 
knees,  with  the  fat,  foolish  scullion  in  the  kitchen. 
Dear  souls,  you  are  a  much  abused  generation  !  It 
is  no  wonder  that  you  are  cowed,  and  are  ashamed  to 
show  your  faces  in  good  company.  Confound  this 
inarch  of  mind  !  It  has  hardly  left  us  a  good  com 
fortable  superstition  to  our  backs  J 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  145 

Be  this  as  it  may,  there  stood  the  gallant  Captain 
Hazlehurst,  looking  round  upon  his  new  domain. 
And  a  comfortable-looking  domain  it  was,  as  I  said 
before.  The  walls  were  panelled  in  longitudinal  com 
partments,  each  bordered  with  the  "  egg-aud-anchor  " 
carvings  in  which  the  souls  of  our  forefathers  de 
lighted.  Two  portraits  adorned  the  side  of  the  room 
opposite  the  fireplace :  one,  of  a  beautiful  girl  of  eigh 
teen,  of  that  peculiar  style  which  combines  dark 
flashing  eyes  with  blond  hair,  the  exquisite  glow 
of  whose  skin,  and  the  inimitable  finish  of  whose 
point-lace  ruffles  could  have  owned  no  other  hand 
than  Copley's ;  and  the  other,  an  elderly  gentleman, 
in  a  full-bottomed  wig,  and  formal  cataract  of  cravat 
pouring  down  over  his  laced  waistcoat,  plainly  the 
work  of  an  earlier  and  an  inferior  artist.  Between 
the  windows  on  your  left,  as  you  turned  what  Lord 
Castlereagh  used  to  call  "  a  back  front "  to  the  fire, 
was  a  tall  mirror,  in  a  frame  of  tarnished  gold,  sur 
mounted  by  a  bird  of  nondescript  characteristics, 
which  a  naturalist  might  class  with  eagles,  with  peli 
cans,  or  with  herons,  at  his  pleasure.  Beneath  the 
glass,  stood  a  low,  curiously  carved  chest  of  drawers, 
the  handles  and  key-holes  flashing  back  the  fire  from 
their  glittering  brasses.  Upon  this  stood  a  Japan,  or 
rather  a  Chinese  dressing-case,  with  curious  drawers 
in  the  centre,  and  comical  little  doors  at  the  sides, 
and  gold  mandarins,  "  with  women's  faces,"  and  man- 
darinesses,  "  with  yet  more  womanish  expressions," 
taking  tea  all  over  it  with  much  contentment,  upon 
10 


146  THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

a  glossy  background.  Opposite  the  glass  stood  the 
bedstead,  none  of  your  modern  French  abominations 
stuck  upon  the  side  of  the  wall  like  a  hornet's  nest, 
but  a  substantial,  solid,  imposing  four-poster,  with 
chintz  draperies  above,  and  draperies  below,  which 
I  am  not  upholsterer  enough  to  describe.  The  bed 
itself  puffed  up  in  all  the  elasticity  of  feathers,  as 
beds  of  any  character  were  wont  to  do,  before  pail 
lasses  and  mattresses  came  in  from  France,  with 
Jacobinism  and  thin  potations.  The  table  in  the 
centre  of  the  room  was  round,  of  shining  mahogany, 
its  edges  scalloped,  its  legs  clasping  large  balls  in 
their  claws,  as  if  about  to  engage  in  a  game  of  bowls. 
The  chairs  were  heavy  and  hair-seated,  the  backs 
presenting  a  sort  of  mahogany  lace-work,  of  a  strange 
pattern,  and  unfolding  themselves  outward  at  the  top 
in  a  bell-like  expansion. 

And  then,  if  you  turn  and  examine  the  mantel 
piece,  it  will  reward  your  trouble.  The  curious  carv 
ings  of  grotesque  heads  on  either  side,  and  the  delicate 
sculpture  of  fruits  and  flowers  in  the  centre  were  the 
work  of  no  mean  artificer.  And  then  the  Dutch  tiles 
guarding  the  orifice  of  the  fireplace  !  Heavens  !  it  is 
strange  that  so  much  piety  should  have  been  left  to 
our  ancestors,  when  their  earliest  ideas  of  saints  and 
patriarchs  were  derived  from  those  earthen  tablets ! 
What  bandy-legged  kings,  and  dumpy  queens  !  What 
squat  prophets,  and  squab  apostles !  I  see  now,  in 
my  mind's  eye,  King  David  ogling  a  Bathsheba,  from 
the  roof  of  his  house,  whose  portraiture  excited  my 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  147 

youthful  horror  at  the  taste,  rather  than  at  the  crime, 
of  his  Hebrew  majesty.  But  there  they  were  in  blue 
and  white,  grim,  grisly,  and  grotesque ;  the  blazing 
logs  below  lighting  up  their  square  faces  and  repair 
ing  their  halos  with  a  light  not  their  own.  The 
andirons,  too,  and  the  shovel  and  tongs  were  well 
worthy  a  description ;  especially  as  they  are  likely 
soon  to  become  an  extinct  generation,  whose  very 
name  will  be  a  puzzle  to  future  antiquaries. 

But  my  story  is  waiting  for  me,  and  will  soon  get 
impatient.  Still,  you  must  take  a  glance  at  the  roar 
ing  wood  fire,  which  goes  crackling  up  the  chimney, 
and  acknowledge  its  superiority  over  the  pitiful  grates 
and  subterranean  furnaces,  which  are  drying  up  the 
present  generation  to  mummies.  If  flesh  be  indeed 
grass,  anthracite  will  soon  desiccate  the  American 
public  into  a  very  creditable  hortus  siccus.  Was  there 
anything  else  in  the  room  demanding  notice  ?  Oh 
yes,  there  was  the  carpet,  a  heavy  Turkey  one,  half 
worn,  and  evidently  promoted,  "like  a  crab,  back 
ward,"  from  the  parlor  to  the  best  chamber.  On 
either  side  of  the  fireplace  was  a  closet,  each  with  a 
window  and  a  window-seat,  the  one  on  the  right-hand 
side  large  enough  to  contain  a  bed  for  the  Captain's 
servant,  who  had  stipulated  for  this  arrangement 
before  consenting  to  accompany  his  master  to  a  house 
of  so  dubious  a  reputation. 

"  By  Jove,  the  ghost  has  a  good  taste  in  quarters ! " 
exclaimed  Captain  Hazlehurst,  rubbing  his  hands,  and 
then  giving  them  one  gentle  pat  together,  expressive 


148  THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

of  infinite  content.  "It  is  certainly  much  to  his 
credit  to  prefer  such  snug  lodgings  as  these  to 
a  mouldy  church-yard  or  a  damp,  dilapidated  old 
ruin." 

Then  drawing  up  the  easiest  of  the  chairs  to  the 
front  of  the  fire  (it  is  a  strange  instinct  which  always 
tells  a  man  which  chair  is  the  easiest !)  he  established 
one  foot  on  either  andiron,  and  resigned  himself  to 
the  comforts  of  his  situation  in  an  attitude  rather 
redolent  of  ease  than  grace.  But  a  handsome  young 
fellow  of  two-and-twenty  may  twist  his  limbs  into 
any  posture  without  much  danger  of  criticism. 

And  it  was  a  night  fitted  for  the  intensest  comfort. 
The  wind  roared  down  the  chimney ;  the  snow  was 
dashed  against  the  windows  in  fitful  gusts ;  the  old 
elm  which  overshadowed  the  house  groaned  and 
creaked  as  it  tossed  its  huge  arms  about  in  the  storm. 
Tibullus  himself  could  not  have  wished  for  one  more 
congenial  to  his  notions  of  enjoyment,  as  he  has  re 
corded  them  in  his  immortal  couplet.  Having  thus 
taken  a  survey  of  his  new  dominion,  and  imbibed  as 
much  caloric  as  his  sitting  man  was  fitted  to  take  in, 
he  naturally  began  to  think  about  his  supper. 

"  I  wonder  where  that  rascal  John  can  be,"  said  he, 
a  little  testily ;  "  he  has  had  time  enough  to  go  to  the 
Green  Dragon  and  back  again  fifty  times  since  he 
went  out.  But  there  he  comes,"  he  continued,  in  a 
milder  tone,  as  he  heard  a  man's  step  ascending  the 
stairs ;  "  but  how  happened  it  that  I  did  not  hear  him 
open  the  hall  door  ?  " 


THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  149 

The  steps  ascended  the  stairs  slowly  and  heavily, 
and  then  came  "  tramp,  tramp  "  along  the  entry,  till 
they  appeared  to  stop  at  the  door  of  the  room. 

"  Corne  in,  can't  you  ! "  called  out  the  impatient 
Adjutant  (for  he  was  adjutant,  as  well  as  captain,  as 
you  shall  presently  hear).  "  What  the  devil  are  you 
stopping  for  ? " 

Then  recollecting  that  John  might  by  possibility 
come  with  both  hands  full  (though  fortune  never 
does),  he  jumped  up,  and  incontinently  flung  the  door 
open  to  its  utmost  capacity  of  swing.  And  was  not 
John  obliged  to  him  for  this  timely  assistance  ?  Why, 
bless  you,  he  was  n't  there  !  No !  Who  was  there, 
then  ?  If  anybody,  it  was  that  personage  well  known 
in  the  best  regulated  families  by  the  name  of  Mr. 
Nobody.  In  short,  there  was  nobody  there. 

"  Whew  ! "  softly  whistled  the  Captain,  "  if  this  is 
the  ghost,  he  is  a  heavy-heeled  lubber,  and  it 's  hard 
if  I  can't  catch  him,  and  lay  him,  —  if  not  in  the  Eed 
Sea,  at  least  in  some  of  his  own  claret." 

With  these  words  he  took  a  candle  from  the  table, 
and  a  stout  regimental  cane,  such  as  ofncers»wore  in 
those  days  at  drills  and  off  duty,  from  behind  the  door, 
and  proceeded  coolly  to  search  the  hall  and  the  cham 
bers  opening  out  of  it.  But  it  was  all  to  no  purpose. 
The  ghost,  if  it  were  one,  had  vanished,  and  not  left 
so  much  as  a  "  melodious  twang  "  behind  it. 

"  It 's  very  strange,"  he  soliloquized.  "  Could  it  be 
that  villain  John,  making  game  of  me  ?  If  it  be  — 
but  no,  it 's  impossible  ! " 


150  THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

And  the  impossibility  was  soon  put  beyond  a 
doubt,  by  a  multitudinous  stamping  and  kicking  in 
the  porch,  such  as  indicates  a  return  from  a  walk 
through  a  deep  snow-storm,  and  then  by  a  sudden 
opening  of  the  hall  door,  which  admitted  John,  and 
a  furious  draught  of  wind  and  snow  by  way  of  accom 
paniments.  The  doors  above  banged  to,  the  Captain's 
light  blew  out,  and  a  fresh  stamping,  kicking,  and 
shaking  bore  noisy  evidence  that  the  new  comer  was 
none  other  than  John  himself  in  the  flesh.  Captain 
Hazlehurst  stole  back  into  his  room,  not  caring  to 
acknowledge  the  extreme  civility  of  his  disembodied 
visitor,  in  making  him  a  call  so  very  early  after  his 
arrival ;  though,  in  his  secret  heart,  he  could  not  but 
think  him  "  most  infernally  polite."  He  had  scarcely 
resumed  his  chair  and  relighted  his  candle,  when 
the  veritable  John  made  his  appearance,  his  shaggy 
great-coat  white  with  snow,  and  making  altogether  a 
spectral  appearance  in  very  good  keeping  with  his 
whereabouts. 

"  Why,  John,"  said  his  master,  "  I  thought  the 
ghost  must  have  got  you,  and  my  supper  into  the 
bargain." 

"  Oh  dear,  your  honor,"  cried  John,  setting  down 
his  basket,  and  taking  off  his  great-coat,  "  please  don't 
talk  in  that  sort  of  way.  The  ghosts  are  made  quite 
mad-like  when  they  hear  themselves  made  fun  of. 
I  was  almost  afraid  to  come  up  those  creaking  stairs. 
My  grandmother  once  "  — 

"  Never  mind  your  grandmother  just  now,  John," 


THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT.  151 

interrupted  his  master,  "but  let  me  see  what  you 
have  got  in  your  basket ;  for  I  am  hungry  enough  to 
eat  a  ghost  myself,  if  it  should  appear  in  the  shape 
of  a  boiled  scrag  of  mutton,  like  the  one  at  Oxford, 
which  was  laid  by  eating  him  with  mashed  turnips 
and  melted  butter." 

John  groaned  in  spirit  at  this  blasphemy  against 
the  powers  of  the  air,  as  a  Methodist  may  do  when 
some  unlucky  scapegrace  raps  out  an  oath  in  a  stage 
coach.  However,  he  proceeded  to  lay  a  snowy  nap 
kin  over  the  table,  and  then  to  produce  from  his 
basket  a  cold  chicken,  some  slices  of  ham,  and  bread 
and  butter  and  cheese,  which  he  duly  disposed  upon 
the  board.  From  a  yet  lower  deep  he  evoked  a  string 
of  sausages  and  a  dozen  potatoes  in  the  prime  of  their 
age.  With  a  precision,  which  showed  him  to  be  an 
old  campaigner,  he  next  deposited  the  potatoes  in 
the  ashes  upon  the  hearth,  and  taking  down  a  small 
saucepan  from  the  closet,  began  to  fry  the  sausages, 
which  soon  sent  up  an  aromatic  perfume,  that  might 
well  simimon  to  the  presence  any  spirit  yet  in  the 
body,  whatever  its  effect  might  be  on  one  that  had 
shuffled  off  his  mortal  coil.  When  these  conjurations 
were  over,  he  deposited  the  result  writh  the  other 
comestibles  upon  the  table,  and  then  intimated  to  his 
master  that  there  was  nothing  to  wait  for. 

While  the  young  soldier  was  carrying  the  war 
with  spirit  into  the  enemy's  country,  his  faithful 
squire  was  not  idle  in  his  yet  unfinished  vocation. 
He  took  down  a  silver  tankard,  with  a  heavy  lid 


152  THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

falling  back  on  its  hinges  upon  the  solid  handle,  and 
slicing  the  lemons,  and  heating  the  water,  and  mixing 
the  sugar,  and  pouring  (I  grieve  to  say)  the  rum,  he 
compounded  that  insidious  concoction  with  which 
our  sires  welcomed  the  noon,  bade  farewell  to  the 
departing  sun,  and  chased  the  shades  of  night.  When 
the  ingredients  were  duly  mixed,  and  the  whole  made 
"  slab  and  good,"  he  set  it  down  upon  the  glowing 
coals,  to  acquire  a  new  fire  from  without  to  reinforce 
that  within. 

His  supper  ended,  and  his  libation  poured,  Hazle- 
hurst  prepared  for  bed.  He  could  not  help  revolving 
the  sounds  he  had  heard  over  in  his  mind,  and  he  was 
fully  of  the  opinion  that  there  was  some  trick  designed 
him  by  his  comrades  or  some  waggish  rebels.  He 
thought  it  was  entirely  contrary  to  the  etiquette  of 
the  spirit-land  for  its  accredited  envoys  to  go  creaking 
about  in  clouted,  hob-nailed  shoes,  like  a  live  plough 
man.  "  Gliding,"  "  skimming,"  "  floating,"  "  sailing," 
he  well  knew  to  be  the  appropriate  mode  of  ghostly 
locomotion,  but  as  to  stamping  and  dumping,  he 
believed  them  to  be  unworthy  of  any  goblin  of  good 
breeding  and  a  Liberal  education.  So  he  was  resolved 
to  be  upon  his  guard.  John  lingered  about  his  mas 
ter's  toilet  as  long  as  he  could,  and  seemed  loath  to 
depart. 

"  And  so  your  honor  does  n't  believe  there  is  any 
ghost  at  all  ? "  he  suggested. 

"  Ghost ! "  his  master  responded,  as  he  untied  his 
right  garter,  "I  believe  there's  no  ghost  but  has  a 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  153 

head  to  be  broken,  and  a — hinder  man  to  be  kicked  ; 
and  so  I  advise  all  such  gentry  to  keep  out  of  my 
reach  !" 

"  Oh,  Lord  !  I  wish  your  honor  would  n't  talk  in 
that  sort  of  way.  My  grandmother  "  — 

"Plague  take  your  grandmother,"  cried  the  Cap 
tain  peevishly,  slipping  his  left  leg  out  of  his  scarlet 
unmentionables  (they  called  them  breeches  in  those 
days),  "  you  are  half  a  granny  yourself.  I  tell  you 
no  ghost  will  dare  to  come  within  the  reach  of  these 
magic  circles"  —  pointing  as  he  spoke  to  the  muzzles 
of  his  pistols  ;  "  if  they  do,  they  '11  find  that  there  is 
a  spell  in  them  that  will  soon  send  them  packing  to 
the  Eed  Sea." 

He  spoke  thus  in  a  raised  tone  of  voice,  and  then 
cocked  and  uncocked  his  pistols,  that  his  words  and 
their  "  strange  quick  jar  "  might  fall  upon  the  ears  of 
the  walls,  if,  peradveuture,  as  often  happens,  they 
were  provided  with  them. 

"  But,  Lord  bless  you !  what  good  will  they  do, 
sir  ? "  persisted  John.  "  I  heard  of  a  ghost  once  that 
caught  a  brace  of  bullets  in  his  hand,  and  flung  them 
back  in  the  gentleman's  face  that  fired  them  at 
him." 

"  Then,  I  shall  save  my  lead,  at  any  rate,"  rejoined 
the  Captain,  laughing ;  "  but  to  bed  with  you,  for  I 
am  tired  and  sleepy."  With  these  words  he  turned 
into  bed,  and  the  unlucky  John,  after  replenishing  the 
fire,  and  clearing  away  the  things,  was  fain  to  do 
likewise. 


154         THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

But  though  Captain  Hazlehurst  pretended  to  be 
asleep,  he  was  never  more  broad  awake  in  his  life. 
He  lay  for  a  good  while  watching  the  flickering  phan 
toms  which  danced  in  the  light  of  the  wood  fire  upon 
the  panels  of  his  chamber.  And  then  he  thought  a 
multitude  of  thoughts,  for  there  are  no  such  promoters 
of  thought  as  night  and  watchfulness.  The  steps 
which  he  had  heard  in  the  evening  certainly  sug 
gested  some  of  his  meditations ;  but  he  was  not  su 
perstitious,  and  believed  they  appertained  to  some 
being  of  flesh  and  blood,  whom  it  was  his  business 
not  to  be  afraid  of.  As  he  had  seen  the  door  carefully 
bolted,  and  had,  beside,  double-locked  it  and  put  the 
key  under  his  pillow,  he  felt  tolerably  secure  from 
any  visitants,  other  than  such  as  might  make  their 
entrance  through  the  keyhole,  without  some  sufficient 
warning  of  their  approach.  These  thoughts,  then, 
soon  vanished  from  his  mind,  and  his  imagination 
was  soon  a  thousand  leagues  away,  disporting  itself 
in  the  glades  of  the  park  of  his  ancestors,  watching 
the  deer  in  the  fern,  the  swans  on  the  stream,  or  the 
whirring  coveys  as  they  rose  from  the  cover.  There 
he  saw  himself,  and  perhaps  a  fairer  form  or  two, 
wandering  through  its  paths,  or  sitting  at  the  foot  of 
its  old  trees,  in  the  light  of  that  farewell  sun  which 
ever  sheds  a  Claude-like  glow  around  our  last  day  at 
home,  when  we  live  it  over  again  in  other  days  and 
distant  climes. 

And,  perhaps,  the  scene  changed  to  his  ancestral 
hall,  and  it  was  evening,  and  the  lights  shone  bright 


THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  155 

upon  his  father's  erect  form  and  thoughtful  face,  upon 
his  mother's  placid  brow  and  calm  smile,  upon  the 
manly  figures  of  his  brothers,  and  the  graceful  shapes 
of  his  sisters,  as  lie  saw  them  all  on  the  night  before 
his  departure  for  America.  And  there  were  those 
other  forms,  too,'  that  had  been  with  him  in  the  park 
(who  were  not  exactly  sisters,  but  who  would  have 
been  almost  as  much  missed  from  the  dream-circle  as 
they) ;  they  were  there,  too,  and  he  was  leading  down 
with  them  the  contra-dance  (for,  alas !  the  waltz,  and 
even  the  quadrille,  then  were  not),  with  interludes  in 
the  intervals  of  the  dance,  which  are  very  well  to 
dream  about,  but  which  it  would  be  a  breach  of  the 
confidence  reposed  in  me  to  reveal.  And  then  he 
thought,  too,  of  the  charming,  the  perplexing  Clara 
Forrester,  his  latest  flame  (for  I  grieve  to  say  that  my 
hero  was  un  pcu  volage'),  who  had  made  more  of  an 
impression  upon  him  than  he  cared  to  admit,  even  to 
himself,  was  within  the  power  of  a  provincial  beauty. 
His  visions,  however,  grew  more  and  more  indistinct, 
and,  like  many  a  sleepless  lover  before  him,  he  was 
soon  sound  asleep. 

He  had  not  been  long  asleep  when  he  was  aroused 
by  a  hurried  shake,  and  a  gasping  entreaty  to  awake. 
He  instinctively  seized  his  pistols,  and  was  near 
putting  them  to  their  natural  uses  without  fur 
ther  inquiry,  when  he  was  stopped  by  the  voice  of 
John. 

"  Don't  fire,  Captain  —  don't  fire,  your  honor.  It 's 
the  ghost  —  the  ghost !  " 


156  THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

"D-n  the  ghost!"  exclaimed  the  Captain,  pro 
voked,  as  gentlemen  are  apt  to  be,  at  being  waked  out 
of  their  first  sleep,  "  I  've  a  great  mind  to  make  a 
ghost  of  you,  you  blockhead." 

"  But  don't  you  hear  him,  your  honor  ? "  cried  John, 
in  an  agony  of  terror,  "  don't  you  hear  him  walking 
about  over  our  heads,  as  if  "  — 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  can't  you,  and  let  me  listen," 
said  his  master,  whose  attention  was  thoroughly 
aroused  by  this  intimation  of  the  character  of  the 
ghostly  visitation.  He  listened,  and  heard  the  same 
heavy  tread,  stepping  backward  and  forward,  with 
slow  and  measured  step,  in  the  chamber  directly  over 
his  head. 

"  Give  me  my  cloak,  you  villain,"  exclaimed  Hazle- 
hurst,  as  he  leaped  out  of  bed  and  ensconced  his  feet 
in  his  slippers,  "  and  light  the  candle  and  come  along 
with  me." 

"  And  where  are  you  going,  sir  ?  "  inquired  John, 
with  woe-begoue  face  and  chattering  jaws. 

"  Going  ?  "  was  the  reply.  "  Why  to  see  who  it  is 
that  is  making  that  infernal  noise  upstairs,  and  make 
him  choose  some  other  place  for  his  promenade." 

"  Oh,  Lord !  your  honor,  pray  don't  —  pray  don't ! 
perhaps  he  '11  fly  away  with  the  side  of  the  house  if 
we  provoke  him." 

"Never  mind,"  replied  the  Captain  coolly,  "the 
house  don't  belong  to  me.  But  make  haste,  and 
come  along." 

"  Oh  !    but  I  am  afraid  to  go,  indeed  I  am !     Pray, 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  157 

don't  go,  sir,  for  God's  sake !  I  shall  die  if  I  go,  in 
deed  I  shall." 

"Then  stay,  and  be" —  blessed,  the  Captain  would 
probably  have  said,  as  he  snatched  the  caudle  which 
John  had  just  lighted  out  of  his  hand,  had  he  not  in 
terrupted  him  to  say  that  if  he  were  resolved  to  go, 
he  would  go  with  him,  as  he  was  a  good  deal  more 
afraid  to  be  left  alone. 

"  Come  along,  then,"  said  the  Captain,  as  he  led  the 
way,  a  pistol  in  one  hand  and  his  sword  in  the  other, 
followed  by  John  with  the  candle  up  the  creaking 
staircase. 

Beader,  was  it  ever  thy  hap  to  be  awakened  in  the 
dead  of  the  night  by  a  mysterious  noise  in  the  kitchen  ? 
and,  urged  by  the  instances  of  thy  wife  or  sister,  hast 
thou  descended,  poker-armed,  to  the  eerie  spot  ?  I 
doubt  not  thou  art  a  valiant  man,  a  proper  fellow  of 
thy  hand,  but  tell  me  true  (for  doth  not  an  author 
stand  to  his  reader  in  the  relation  of  a  father  confes 
sor  ?  Fear  not  that  I  shall  betray  the  secrets  of  the 
confessional !),  did  not  thy  manly  heart  go  pit-a-pat  as 
thou  approachedst  the  fatal  door  and  puttedst  thy 
hand  upon  the  lock,  the  turning  of  which  might  reveal 
to  thy  sight  a  ferocious  band  of  robbers,  whiskered  to 
the  eyes  and  armed  to  the  teeth  ?  And  didst  thou 
not  wish  in  thy  secret  soul  that  thy  desire  to  appear 
a  man  of  prowess  in  the  eyes  of  thy  womankind  had 
suffered  thee  to  lie  quietly,  with  thy  head  covered  in 
the  bed-clothes,  saying  unto  thyself,  "  Lo  !  is  it  not  the 
wind  ? "  And  when,  on  opening  the  door  with  a  des- 


158  THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

perate  thrust,  thou  hast  discovered  a  whiskered  robber, 
indeed,  and  one  well-armed,  but  of  the  feline,  not 
felon,  race,  with  her  head  stuck  in  the  cream-jug,  its 
milky  whiteness  on  her  sable  fur  testifying  to  her 
crime,  and  a  heap  of  upturned  trays  bearing  evidence 
to  her  desperation,  didst  thou  not  feel  thy  bosom's 
lord  sit  lightly  on  his  throne,  and  didst  thou  not  re 
ceive  the  gratulations  of  thy  fair  instigators,  and  sip 
thy  creamless  coffee  the  next  morning,  with  more 
contentment  than  if  thou  hadst  sacrificed  to  thy  in 
sulted  household  gods  a  hecatomb  of  burglarious  var- 
lets  ?  If  such  has  ever  been  a  part  of  thy  experience, 
thou  canst  appreciate  the  sensations  of  master  and 
man  as  they  ascended  with  noiseless  step  the  stairs 
which  led  to  the  next  floor. 

Pardon  this  digression,  dear  reader.  Your  confes 
sions  in  the  premises  shall  be  sacredly  kept  secret. 
But  it  was  necessary  for  the  due  preservation  of  the 
unities  (for  which  I  am  an  Aristotelian  stickler),  that 
my  characters  should  have  time  to  get  upstairs.  As 
they  approached  the  door  the  steps  ceased  suddenly, 
as  if  the  owner  of  them  had  paused  to  listen.  Who 
could  he  be  ?  It  clearly  could  not  be  the  cat.  For, 
first,  they  had  no  cat;  and,  secondly,  no  cat  could 
have  made  such  a  fearful  tramping,  unless,  indeed,  it 
had  been  the  prime  minister  of  the  Marquis  of  Cara- 
bas,  the  redoubtable  Puss  in  Boots  himself. 

I  have  the  greatest  tenderness  for  my  hero's  repu 
tation,  but  my  duty  as  a  faithful  historian  obliges  me 
to  say  that  there  was  the  slightest  possible  nervous 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  159 

contraction  of  his  left  arm  as  he  seized  the  lock  of  the 
door,  to  throw  it  open,  having  slipped  his  sword  under 
his  arm  to  enable  him  to  do  it.  He  had  led  his  com 
pany  up  Bunker's  Hill  without  flinching,  to  be  sure, 
but  this  was  an  entirely  different  case.  There  is  a 
wide  range  allowable  to  tastes  in  the  matter  of  throat- 
cutting,  as  well  as  in  the  rest  of  the  fine  arts.  A  man 
may  be  ready  enough  to  submit  to  this  elegant  deple 
tion  on  a  field  of  battle,  with  all  the  enlivening  con 
comitants  of  such  a  scene,  who  might  reasonably 
object  to  the  operation  at  the  top  of  an  old  house,  in 
the  middle  of  the  night. 

However  this  might  be,  he  flung  open  the  door  to 
its  utmost  extent,  at  the  same  moment  recovering  his 
sword  and  presenting  his  pistol.  He  was  prepared 
for  the  worst,  and  resolved  to  encounter  the  enemy  in 
whatever  shape  he  might  appear.  He  presented  a 
figure  at  once  civil  and  military  ;  his  night-cap,  and 
night-gown  fluttering  under  his  cloak,  fairly  repre 
senting  the  toga,  while  the  "  sword  and  pistol,  which 
did  come  at  his  command,"  as  at  that  of  the  celebrated 
Billy  Taylor,  might  well  stand  for  the  arma,  —  for 
making  which  last  yield  to  the  first,  Tully  was  so 
well  quizzed  by  the  Edinburgh  Reviewers  of  his  day. 
There  he  stood,  ready  to  kill,  slay,  and  destroy  any 
and  every  antagonist,  however  formidable.  And  for 
whom  was  all  this  energy  so  well  got  up  ?  Who  was 
the  object  upon  whom  this  well-cooked  wrath  was  to 
be  bestowed  ?  Bless  you,  nothing  at  all !  The  very 
identical  Mr.  Nobody  who  had  walked  up  stairs  early 


160  THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

in  the  evening,  and  stopped  at  the  door  below  on  his 
way  up  !  There  was  no  sign  of  any  mortal  creature 
near! 

"  The  devil !  "  exclaimed  the  Captain,  as  he  lowered 
the  point  of  his  sword  and  the  muzzle  of  his  pistol, 
and  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  0  Lord !  sir,  don't  mention  him,  or  perhaps  he  '11 
come  back  again,"  ejaculated  the  trembling  John, 
who  was  peeping,  with  a  foolish  face  of  fear,  over 
his  master's  shoulder. 

"  It  is  very  strange ! "  monologized  that  gentleman. 
"  What  can  be  the  meaning  of  it  ?  "  And  stepping 
gently  into  the  room  he  examined  it  and  its  closets 
with  all  care,  but  without  any  clue  to  the  mystery. 

But  just  as  he  had  completed  his  search,  probing 
the  darker  recesses  with  his  sword,  "  and  wounding 
several  shutters  and  some  boards,"  without  any  satis 
factory  result,  his  attention  was  arrested  by  a  tre 
mendous  crash  in  the  room  below.  One  leap  brought 
him  to  the  door  of  the  room,  two  more  to  the  head  of 
the  stairs,  and  a  hop,  skip,  and  jump  in  addition,  to  the 
door  of  his  own  chamber.  And  there  he  saw  a  scene 
of  confusion  which  might  well  have  roused  the  ire 
of  Moses,  the  meekest,  or  of  Job,  the  most  patient,  of 
men.  The  bed-clothes  were  stripped  off  the  bed, 
and  coiled  up  on  the  floor  like  a  spectral  boa  con 
strictor.  The  andirons  lay  lovingly  together  on  the 
top  of  the  deserted  bed.  The  tongs  bestrode,  like  a 
Colossus,  the  dressing-case  on  the  chest  of  drawers 
under  the  glass,  while  the  shovel  seemed  to  regard 


THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  161 

its  old  companion's  exploit  with  a  chuckling  laugh  of 
satisfaction,  from  the  easy-chair  in  the  corner  of  the 
room.  And  to  complete  the  scene,  the  table  in  the 
centre  of  the  room  was  overturned,  and,  with  all  its 
miscellaneous  contents  of  books,  glasses  and  etceteras, 
lay  in  one  wide  heap  of  ruin  upon  the  floor. 

All  this  was  not  at  first  visible,  as  the  fire  was 
almost  out,  and  panting  John  toiled  after  his  master, 
if  not  in  vain,  at  least  so  slowly  as  to  put  him  entirely 
out  of  patience.  But  when  the  candle  came,  and  the 
chaos  was  revealed,  who  shall  paint  the  rage  of  the 
master  or  the  dismay  of  the  man  ?  "  The  devil  ! " 
exclaimed  the  choleric  Captain,  with  added  emphasis, 
and  I  am  afraid  I  must  allow  that  he  made  use  of 
other  expletives  of  more  significance  and  weight,  as 
he  danced  about  the  apartment  in  a  most  heroic  pas 
sion.  For  it  is  a  melancholy  fact  that  the  British 
armies  did  "  swear  terribly  "  in  America  in  Captain 
Hazlehurst's  day,  even  as  they  did  "  in  Flanders  "  in 
that  of  Captain  Shandy.  If  the  recording  angel 
undertook  to  write  down  all  the  oaths  the  gallant 
Captain  uttered,  he  must  have  gone  nigh  to  have 
written  up  his  wings ;  and  if,  in  consideration  of  the 
provocation,  he  should  have  attempted  to  drop  a  tear 
upon  every  one  of  them,  to  blot  it  out  forever,  he 
must  have  infallibly  cried  his  eyes  out.  Whatever 
may  have  been  the  proceedings  in  Heaven's  chancery, 
I  am  afraid  that  just  where  he  was,  Captain  Hazle- 
hurst  would  have  maintained  that  he  felt  the  better 
for  the  effort. 

11 


162  THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

But,  be  that  as  it  may,  as  soon  as  his  first  trans 
ports  of  anger  and  amazement  were  over,  the  Captain 
made  a  minute  examination  of  the  chamber  and  the 
house,  but  without  finding  any  trace  of  the  perpe 
trator  of  these  deeds.  He  was  all  the  more  convinced 
that  he  was  made  the  victim  of  a  practical  joke,  as 
he  could  not  believe  such  pranks  worthy  the  gravity 
of  disembodied,  or  the  dignity  of  "evil  spirits  ;  but  he 
could  not  refuse  to  allow  that  the  joke,  if  it  were 
one,  was  well  done.  Poor  John,  on  the  other  hand, 
whose  notions  of  the  moral  or  the  social  proprieties 
of  the  inhabitants  of  a  world  he  knew  very  little 
about,  were  much  less  exalted  than  his  master's,  laid 
the  whole  blame  upon  their  airy  shoulders.  It  was 
as  much  as  he  could  do  to  command  himself  suffi 
ciently,  after  the  Captain  had  finished  his  researches, 
to  put  the  room  to  rights  again,  fearing  lest  some 
spectral  hand  should  resent  his  interference  with  the 
admired  disorder  it  had  created.  But  no  such  dis 
pleasure  was  manifested,  and  after  the  bed  had  been 
readjusted,  the  Captain  retired  to  it  again,  marvelling 
much  at  the  events  of  the  night.  He  lay  long  awake 
pondering  upon  them,  and  neither  he  nor  his  man 
fell  asleep  till  the  neighboring  clock  had  told  that  the 
small  hours  were  fast  growing  into  the  larger  ones. 
It  is  no  wonder,  then,  that  they  overslept  themselves, 
and  that,  when  he  awoke,  his  curiosity  as  to  his 
adventures  of  the  night  should  be  merged  for  the 
moment  in  his  fears  of  being  late  at  the  morning 
parade.  His  hurry  would  allow  no  time  for  remark 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  163 

from  his  attendant,  whose  mind  was  full  of  nothing 
else,  while  the  business  of  the  toilet  was  proceeding. 
Captain  Hazlehurst,  however,  found  time  to  enjoin  it 
upon  John,  as  he  was  giving  the  last  sprinkle  of 
powder  to  his  plastered  and  pigtailed  head,  to  say 
nothing  about  the  night's  adventures,  as  he  valued 
his  favor,  till  he  had  his  permission.  His  determina 
tion  was,  he  said,  to  sift  the  matter  thoroughly,  and, 
in  the  mean  time,  he  wished  no  reports  to  be  spread 
of  what  had  happened,  as  it  might  interfere  with  his 
investigation.  With  these  injunctions  he  left  the 
mortified  John  in  great  vexation,  as  he  had  been 
reckoning  on  the  pleasures  of  telling  the  ghost  story 
as  his  only  compensation  for  his  fright,  and  hurried 
with  all  the  speed  he  could  command  to  the  parade- 
ground  on  the  Common. 


CHAPTEE  II 

"  "\/"C)U  were  late  at  parade  this  morning,  Captain 

-*•  Hazlehurst,"  said  Lord  Percy  to  his  young 
adjutant,  as  he  called  for  the  orders  of  the  day,  im 
mediately  after  breakfast. 

"I  have  no  excuse  to  offer,  my  lord,"  was  the 
deferential  reply,  "excepting  my  removal  to  new 
quarters  at  the  other  extremity  of  the  town ;  for  I  am 
afraid  that  my  having  overslept  myself  would  be  re 
garded  by  your  lordship  as  rather  an,  aggravation 
than  a  palliation  of  my  dilatoriuess." 

"To  be  sure,  to  be  sure,"  answered  his  lordship, 
who  was  somewhat  of  a  martinet,  "but  be  more 
careful  in  future ;  that 's  all.  But  where  are  your 
new  quarters,  Hazlehurst?"  he  continued,  his  dis 
ciplinarian  gravity  relaxing  into  a  friendly  smile,  for 
Hazlehurst  stood  high  in  his  good  graces. 

"  At  Mr.  Vaughan's  house,  at  the  North  End,  my 
lord,"  responded  the  Captain. 

"  What,  the  haunted  house  ! "  exclaimed  Lord 
Percy,  laughing,  "  why,  you  are  a  bolder  fellow  than 
I  took  you  for,  my  lad.  I  hope  the  ghost  did  the 
honors  of  his  mansion  like  a  gentleman,  and  treated 
you  with  becoming  hospitality." 


THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  165 

"  I  had  no  reason  to  complain,  my  lord,"  was  the 
guarded  response. 

"  I  trust  that  your  oversleeping  yourself  this  morn 
ing  had  nothing  to  do  with  any  nocturnal  merry 
making  with  any  honest  fellow  of  the  last  generation, 
or  flirtation  with  any  of  the  rebel  grandmothers,  who 
look  so  temptingly  down  upon  us  from  some  of  these 
old  picture-frames,"  pointing,  as  he  spoke,  to  some 
lovely  forms  with  which  the  pencil  of  Blackburn 
had  decorated  the  walls  of  his  parlor. 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,  I  assure  you,  my  lord,"  re 
plied  Hazlehurst,  "  no  boon  companions  and  no  ladye 
love,  whether  in  the  body  or  out  of  the  body,  had  any 
thing  to  do  with  my  tardiness  this  morning,  which  I 
shall  take  care  shall  not  occur  again." 

"  Eight,  right,"  said  the  son  of  "  Duke  Smithson 
of  Northumberland."  "I  have  every  reason  to  be 
satisfied  with  you  in  every  respect.  But,  by  the  way, 
how  is  Miss  Forrester  ? "  he  proceeded,  for  his  lord 
ship  had  a  discursiveness  of  discourse,  and  a  talent 
for  knowing  all  the  details  of  the  garrison  gossip, 
which  vindicated  his  hereditary  claim  to  cousinship 
with  royalty. 

"She  was  well,  my  lord,"  answered  Hazlehurst, 
"  when  I  had  the  honor  of  seeing  her  last.  But  that 
was  not  yesterday,  nor  the  day  before." 

"  Lovers'  quarrels  —  lovers'  quarrels,"  said  his  lord 
ship,  laughingly ;  then  added,  more  seriously,  "  but, 
my  dear  Hazlehurst,  pardon  me  if  I  ask  whether  you 
have  considered  what  may  be  Sir  Ealph  and  Lady 


166  THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

Hazlehurst's  opinion  of  a  New  England  daughter-in- 
law,  should  you  be  disposed  to  present  them  with 
one  ? " 

"  I  have  not  given  the  subject  any  consideration 
at  all,  my  lord,"  replied  Hazlehurst  quickly,  "be 
cause  I  have  no  intention  of  subjecting  them  to  any 
such  trial  at  present.  I  beg  that  your  lordship  will 
give  no  credit  to  the  talk  of  the  mess-table  or  of  the 
assembly-room  on  such  subjects,  at  least  where  I  am 
concerned.  My  sword  is  my  bride  till  this  war  is 
over,  and  I  shall  suffer  no  rivals  in  my  affections,  of 
flesh  and  blood." 

"  Bravo  !  bravo  !  Hazlehurst,"  answered  Lord  Percy  ; 
"  these  be  brave  words.  Only  I  hope  that  you  will 
not  have  to  serve  for  your  bride  of  steel  as  long  as 
Jacob  did  for  Laban's  daughter.  Excuse  my  caution, 
which  I  am  glad  to  know  is  not  wanted.  But  I  ad 
vise  you  to  do  as  I  used  to  do  when  I  was  addicted 
to  falling  in  love." 

"  How  was  that,  my  lord  ? " 

"Always  to  take  care  to  be  in  love  with  two  or 
three  at  the  same  time.  You  will  find  it  an  excellent 
rule,  I  assure  you." 

Hazlehurst  joined  cordially  in  the  laugh  with  which 
the  stout  earl  uttered  this  apothegm,  and  assured  his 
noble  commander  that  he  would  not  neglect  his  advice. 

"  Here  is  your  orderly  book,"  added  his  lordship, 
handing  it  to  him ;  "I  take  it  for  granted  we  shall 
meet  at  the  assembly  to-night,  where  I  trust  I  shall 
see  you  reduce  my  instructions  to  practice." 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  167 

"  Never  fear,  my  lord,  but  you  will  find  me  an  apt 
scholar  in  love  as  well  as  in  war.  I  only  wish  I 
could  hope  to  rival  your  lordship  in  either  service." 

To  this  his  lordship  replied  only  by  a  good-natured 
nod,  which  the  adjutant  understood  to  be  his  signal 
to  take  his  leave,  which  he  accordingly  made  haste 
to  do. 

"  Confound  that  Clara  Forrester,"  soliloquized  Cap 
tain  Hazlehurst,  as  he  walked  slowly  along  Hanover 
Street,  after  he  had  discharged  his  regimental  duties, 
"  what  is  there  about  her  that  plays  the  devil  with 
me,  in  a  way  that  no  other  woman  ever  did  before  ? 
It  can't  be  her  beauty  or  her  accomplishments,  for  I 
have  seen  her  superiors  in  both.  I  don't  know  though, 
on  the  whole,  as  to  her  beauty,"  he  said  to  himself,  in 
atone  of  more  deliberation.  "It's  a  peculiar  style, 
to  be  sure,  but  she  's  devilish  handsome,  there  is  no 
doubt  about  that.  And  as  to  her  accomplishments, 
what  have  they  to  do  with  the  matter,  I  should  like 
to  know  ?  It  must  be  this  cursed  siege,  which  shuts 
us  all  up  so  close  together.  Well,  I  have  not  been 
to  see  her  for  these  three  days,  and  I  sha'n't  be  in  a 
hurry  to  call  on  her,  after  her  flirtation  with  that 
puppy  Bellassis,  I  can  tell  her.  She  shall  see  that  I 
am  not  dependent  upon  her,  that  I  'm  resolved  upon." 

As  the  gallant  Captain  had  just  made  this  valiant 
resolution,  he  found  himself  opposite  the  house  of  the 
Hon.  James  Forrester,  one  of  his  Majesty's  council, 
&c.,  &c.  This  house  was  situated  in  Hanover  Street, 
just  before  you  come  to  the  turning  into  Duke  Street, 


168  THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

in  which  were  Hazlehurst's  quarters.  For  in  those 
days  you  must  know  that  the  North  End  was  (par 
don  the  Hibernianism,  my  maternal  grandfather  was 
an  Irishman)  the  West  End  of  the  town.  There  did 
the  great  body  of  the  colonial  court  and  aristocracy 
reside.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  insinuate  that  this  cir 
cumstance  of  juxtaposition  was  any  element  in  the 
determination  of  the  Captain  to  take  up  his  new  quar 
ters.  But  so  it  was.  And  as  he  accidentally  raised 
his  eyes  to  the  window  of  Mr.  Forrester's  house,  just 
as  he  was  internally  ejaculating  the  doughty  resolution 
just  recited,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  pair  of  sunny 
eyes  smiling  upon  him  from  between  two  flowering 
shrubs,  which  stood  upon  the  window  seat,  and  the 
next  minute  he  was  standing  in  the  porch  thundering 
away  at  the  knocker. 

People  may  say  what  they  please  about  dreary- 
dilapidated  houses,  haunted  by  old  dead  men,  but  if 
I  had  a  young  son,  or  nephew,  or  ward  (which,  God 
be  praised,  I  have  not),  I  should  warn  them  to  avoid 
the  bright  and  cheerful  homes  haunted  by  young  live 
women.  These  are  the  haunted  houses  to  be  afraid 
of.  And,  no  doubt,  they  would  take  my  advice.  At 
least,  I  am  sure  I  did  whenever  my  grandfather,  or 
uncle,  or  aunt  gave  me  any  such  admonitions,  "in 
my  hot  youth,  when  George  the  Fourth  was  King." 
"  Never  mind  the  old  witches,"  a  gentleman  celebrated 
in  civil  and  military  life,  of  the  last  generation,  used 
to  say,  when  speaking  of  the  witches  of  his  native 
town  of  Salem,  "  never  mind  the  old  witches,  it  is 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  169 

the  young  witches  that  do  all  the  mischief ! "  And 
I  incline  to  think  that  he  was  more  than  half 
right. 

I  have  a  great  mind  to  seize  upon  the  opportunity, 
while  my  hero  is  waiting  for  the  knocker  to  be 
answered,  to  give  my  friendly  readers  some  account 
of  him.  I  have  been  waiting  for  a  chance  to  put  in 
a  word  on  the  subject  ever  since  I  began.  But  the 
tide  of  events  has  swept  me  on  with  such  resistless 
force  that  I  have  not  had  a  moment  to  take  breath. 
Indeed,  my  plan  is  epic.  I  have  plunged  in  medias 
res,  and  it  is  about  time  for  the  hero,  sitting  over  his 
wine  with  his  mistress,  or  some  Phoenician  Amphi 
tryon,  to  relate  his  birth  and  parentage,  "his  breed, 
seed,  and  generation,"  and  all  the  surprising  adven 
tures  that  had  preceded  his  appearance  in  their 
domains.  But  lest  I  should  find  no  passage  recorded 
iu  this  true  history  to  that  effect,  I  think  I  will  fill  up 
this  pause  in  the  march  of  the  story  with  the  little  I 
know  of  his  previous  history.  And  little  enough  it 
is.  If  any  reader  asks  me  for  his  story,  I  can  only 
answer  in  the  words  of  the  knife-grinder  — 

"  Story  !  God  bless  you,  I  have  none  to  tell,  sir  !  " 

My  hero  then,  in  short,  bore  the  baptismal  and 
patronymic  appellations  of  Charles  Hazlehurst.  He 
was  the  eldest  son  of  a  Somersetshire  baronet.  He 
was  six  feet  high,  with  broad  shoulders,  a  deep  chest, 
and  a  clean  leg.  I  can't  tell  you  the  color  of  his  hair, 
for  I  never  saw  it  without  that  powder  which  has 


170  THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

passed  away  with  so  many  of  the  virtues  and  graces 
of  the  last  age. 

"  God  bless  their  pigtails,  though  they  're  now  cut  off! " 

When  to  this  I  add  that  he  had  a  round,  ruddy  face, 
clear  blue  eyes,  and  the  most  perfect  of  teeth,  I  trust 
my  readers  will  take  my  word  for  it  that  he  was  as 
dangerous  a  Cupidon  dechaine  as  ever  disguised  him 
self  in  a  red  coat  and  breeches,  wore  epaulets  in 
stead  of  wings,  and  used  a  regimental  sword  for  a 
bow  and  arrows.     In  addition  to  this  you  will  please 
to  remember  that  he  was  but  two-and-twenty,  which 
is  an  essential  item  in  the  inventory  of  his  perfec 
tions.     I  am  well  aware  that  objection  will  be  made 
to  his  claims  as  a  lady-killer,  on  the  score  of  his  rosy 
cheeks  and  blue  eyes.     But  you  should  recollect,  my 
dear  madam,   that  your  thin,   black-eyed,   sinister- 
looking,   "  sublime,  sallow,  Werter-faced  men "   had 
not  then  come  into  fashion.     And  so  you  must  excuse 
the  taste  of  your  grandmothers,  who  thought  health 
and  good  humor  main  ingredients  in  manly  beauty. 
As  to  the  number  of  times  he  had  been  in  love,  I  am 
unable  to  say  with  anything  like  accuracy,  as  I  have 
not  as  yet  received  returns  from  all  the  towns  where 
he  went  on  the  recruiting  service,  or  was  stationed 
in   garrison,    before    his    regiment    was    ordered    to 
America.      Should  they  arrive  in  time,  I  shall  add 
them  in  an  appendix,  reduced  to  a  tabular  form  for 
convenience  of  reference.      If  there  is  anything  on 
which  I  do  pride  myself,  it  is  the  business-like  man 
ner  in  which  I  do  up  my  work. 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  171 

So  much  for  love;  and  now  for  war.  He  had 
"  fleshed  his  maiden-sword,"  —  figuratively,  for  he 
did  n't  kill  anybody, — at  the  modern  Chevy  Chase  of 

Lexington, 

"  Made  by  the  Earl  Percy." 

He  attracted  attention  by  his  good  conduct  on  that 
unlucky  occasion,  but  he  chiefly  distinguished  him 
self  at  the  battle  of  Bunker's  Hill.  On  that  famous 
day  he  led  his  company  up  the  hill,  under  the  mur 
derous  fire  of  the  rebels,  twice,  his  captain  having 
been  killed  in  the  first  attempt  to  dislodge  the  enemy 
from  their  entrenchments.  As  a  reward  for  his  gal 
lantry  on  that  occasion,  he  obtained  his  captaincy ; 
and,  the  adjutant  of  his  regiment  being  killed  at  the 
same  time,  and  the  number  of  officers  being  sadly 
reduced  by  the  fatal  aim  of  the  American  marksmen, 
he  was  appointed  to  fill  that  station  also,  until  other 
arrangements  could  be  made. 

But  it  would  be  cruel  to  keep  him  waiting  on  the 
steps  any  longer,  in  one  of  the  coldest  days  of  that 
bitter  winter.  However,  he  felt  warm  enough,  nor 
did  he  feel  in  any  violent  hurry  to  have  the  door 
opened.  Have  you  no  recollection,  my  reader,  of 
the  queer  sensation,  —  after  you  had  rung  the  bell  at 
the  door  of  your  particular  princess,  and  when  you 
had  a  feeling  as  if  you  might  be  left  to  do  something 
desperate,  if  you  got  in,  —  with  which  you  awaited  the 
servant's  approach,  hardly  knowing  whether  to  be 
glad  or  sorry  to  hear  that  she  was  not  at  home  ? 
There  is  nothing  like  it,  unless  it  be  the  odd  feeling 


172  THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

when  you  have  rung  the  bell  at  the  door  of  your  par 
ticular  friend,  for  the  purpose  of  asking  him  to  accom 
pany  you  to  the  "  tribunal  of  twelve  paces,"  at  day 
break  the  next  morning.  But  I  postpone  any  further 
reflections  until  my  chapter  on  bell-pulls. 

After  a  rather  longer  interval  than  was  usual  in  that 
well  regulated  household  (I  once  knew  a  famous  man 
who  used  to  say  that  he  judged  of  the  domestic  man 
agement  of  a  house  by  the  space  which  intervened 
between  the  ringing  of  the  bell  and  the  opening  of  the 
door),  the  portal  was  expanded  by  a  particularly  ugly 
negro,  whom  Hazlehurst  did  not  recollect  to  have 
ever  seen  before  about  the  premises.  Upon  asking 
whether  Miss  Clara  were  at  home,  the  new  porter 
made  an  inarticulate  sort  of  sound,  which  the  visitor 
chose  to  consider  as  an  affirmative,  and  walked  in 
without  further  ceremony.  He  was  left  to  open  the 
parlor  door  himself,  for  the  attendant  spirit  took  no 
further  notice  of  him.  He  accordingly  ushered  him 
self  into  the  comfortable  apartment  where  Miss  For 
rester  sat,  diffusing  an  air  of  cheerfulness  throughout 
it,  even  beyond  that  (at  least  our  adjutant  thought  so) 
dispensed  by  the  good  logs  that  blazed  upon  the 
hearth.  The  scarlet  curtains,  the  pleasant  window- 
seats,  with  their  velvet  cushions,  the  plants  that 
were  placed  upon  them  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
wintry  sun,  the  thick  Turkey  carpet,  and  all  the 
appointments  of  the  parlor  (for  in  those  days  draw 
ing-rooms  were  not),  spoke  to  the  heart  that  comfort 
was  a  word  understood  in  New  England  at  least,  if 


THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  173 

nowhere  else  beyond  the  precincts  of  the  fast-anchored 
isle. 

The  front  windows  looked  into  the  street,  as  my 
readers  may  have  partly  gathered,  and  those  on 
either  side  of  the  fireplace  opened  upon  a  thin  slice 
of  garden  which  extended  down  to  the  street,  and 
stretched  and  expanded  itself  far  behind  the  house, 
the  shrubs  and  fruit  trees  all  glittering,  to  the  finest 
ramifications  of  their  smallest  twigs,  with  the  snow 
which  had  fallen  the  night  before.  On  one  side  of 
the  door,  opposite  the  fireplace,  was  a  large  ma 
hogany  book-case,  with  glass  doors  and  resplendent 
brasses,  containing  the  library  of  Miss  Forrester, 
the  books  bound  uniformly  and  stamped  with  her 
name.  There  was  the  pabulum  upon  which  our 
grandmothers  nourished  their  intellectual  natures. 
Good,  hearty  food,  i '  faith !  None  of  your  modern 
kickshaws  which  the  pastry-cooks  of  the  circulating 
libraries  supply  to  tickle  the  palate  withal,  but  solid 
substantial  viands,  such  as  good  master  cook  fur 
nishes  forth  to  replenish  the  heart  with  its  best  blood. 

There  the  Spectator  sat  with  his  club,  in  his  short 
face,  long  wig,  rolled  stockings  and  high-cut  shoes, 
over  a  squat  bottle  of  wine,  in  the  frontispiece  of  his 
closely  printed  twelves.  The  Tattler,  too,  was  to  be 
seen  in  his  original  fine- paper  quarto.  History,  also, 
there  was  good  store,  arid  biography,  such  as  those 
days  afforded.  And  was  not  Shakspeare  there,  and 
Ben  Jonson,  and  Spenser,  and  Milton  ?  Sir  Charles 
Grandison,  too,  looked  ready  to  step  down  and  bow 


174  THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

over  the  hand  of  his  fair  mistress,  so  like  was  the 
scene  to  the  dear  cedar  parlor  of  "  the  venerable 
circle."  I  don't  know  whether  it  will  do  to  say  it, 
but  so  it  was,  there  stood  Tom  Jones  and  Joseph 
Andrews  and  Eoderick  Random  and  Peregrine 
Pickle,  as  bold  as  lions,  alongside  of  Tristram 
Shandy,  who  did  not  look  the  least  bit  ashamed  of 
himself.  My  fair  readers  must  excuse  my  heroine 
for  keeping  such  rollicking  company,  for  they  must 
remember  that  she  had  not  the  privilege  they  enjoy 
of  the  pious  conversation  of  Sir  Lytton  Bulwer  (or 
Sir  Edward  Lytton,  or  whatever  title  please  his  ear), 
or  of  Monsieur  Victor  Hugo,  or  of  the  epicene 
George  Sand.  She  had  no  choice,  poor  thing;  and, 
upon  my  word,  I  never  could  perceive  that  she  was  a 
jot  the  worse  for  their  society.  In  the  other  corner  of 
the  room,  answering  to  that  filled  up  by  the  book-case, 
was  what  was  in  those  days  termed  a  buffet,  a  closet 
without  doors,  with  its  shelves  loaded  with  the  curious 
old  plate,  and  rare  glass  and  China,  which  had  been 
accumulating  for  generations  in  the  family. 

Miss  Forrester  sat  upon  a  curiously  carved  settee, 
with  devices  of  flowers  and  birds  in  choice  mahog 
any  on  the  back,  which  looked  like  one  uncommonly 
broad-bottomed  arm-chair,  or,  by  'r  lady.Jike  two  sin 
gle  chairs  rolled  into  one,  cushioned  with  green  dam 
ask,  and  drawn  up  to  the  table  in  the  centre  of  the 
room, and  inclining  in  an  angle  of — lam  not  mathema 
tician  enough  to  tell  the  exact  number  of  degrees,  say 
forty-five  —  to  the  fire.  Her  work-basket  was  by  her 


THE   HAUNTED  ADJUTANT.  175 

side,  which  she  graciously  removed  to  the  table,  and 
made  room  on  the  settee  for  Captain  Hazlehurst,  when 
he  had  made  his  advancing  bow,  —  a  very  different 
thing,  let  me  tell  you,  from  the  shrug  and  jerk, 
performed  chiefly  by  the  antipodes  of  the  head,  with 
which  your  modern  exquisite  "  shakes  his  ambrosial 
curls  and  gives  the  nod,"  when  he  enters  a  room. 
And  when  they  were  sitting  there  side  by  side,  I 
protest,  I  don't  believe  that  there  was  a  handsomer 
couple  in  all  his  Majesty's  dominions.  Clara  Forrester 
was  —  but  I  won't  describe  her.  I  never  could  de 
scribe  a  pretty  woman.  And,  for  that  matter,  who 
ever  could  ?  Suffice  it  to  say,  she  was  a  blonde,  with 
a  profusion  of  fair  hair,  I  doubt  not,  but  its  color  was 
concealed  by  that  plaguy  powder  ;  and  yet  I  can't 
say  the  effect  was  unbecoming  to  her  pure  brow,  her 
blooming,  downy  cheeks,  and  sweet  mouth.  And  that 
morning  cap  had  a  most  coquettish  and  killing  air. 

"  And  then  her  teeth,  and  then,  oh  Heaven  !  her  eye  !  " 

It  was  as  wicked  and  roguish  an  eye  as  you  would 
wish  to  see  on  a  winter's  day  looking  into  yours  by 
the  side  of  a  good  fire.  And  then  her  hand,  and  her 
foot,  and  her  shape  !  But  I  won't  go  on.  If  you  can't 
see  her,  just  as  she  was  sitting  there,  it 's  of  no  use 
for  me  to  be  trying  to  fit  your  mind's  eye  with  a  pair 
of  spectacles.  It 's  your  fault,  and  not  mine,  reader, 
if  you  don't  see  her  sitting  in  that  old-fashioned 
room,  in  the  glittering  light  of  that  clear  winter  morn 
ing  of  seventy  years  ago. 


176  THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

I  don't  know  how  it  was,  but  Hazlehurst  had  not 
sat  by  her  side  a  minute,  when  he  felt  all  the  wrath 
he  had  been  nursing  for  three  days,  to  keep  it  warm, 
oozing  out  of  the  palms  of  his  hands,  like  Acres's 
courage,  and  no  more  recollected  Major  Bellassis 
(whom  he  had  just  before,  in  violation  of  the  articles 
of  war,  and  of  the  respect  due  to  his  superior  officer, 
irreverently  styled  a  puppy)  than  if  there  had  been 
no  such  dashing  sprig  of  nobility  in  existence. 

I  might  give  the  details  of  their  conversation  ;  but 
I  don't  know  that  it  would  be  quite  fair,  as  it  was 
communicated  to  me  in  confidence.  But  there  was 
nothing  particular,  —  that  is,  very  particular,  —  upon 
my  honor.  They  talked  of  the  news  of  the  siege,  of 
the  advances  of  the  rebels,  of  the  probabilities  of  re 
pulsing  them.  And  then  they  diverged  to  the  small 
talk  of  the  garrison,  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  flirtation 
stocks,  and  the  variations  of  the  match  market.  Then 
they  talked  of  the  last  review,  and  of  the  comical 
figure  that  Colonel  Cobb,  the  ci-devant  jeune  Jwmme, 
cut  when  he  was  thrown  from  his  new  horse,  and 
could  not  get  up  again,  —  not  because  he  was  hurt,  but 
because  he  was  too  tightly  girt.  And  the  assemblies, 
too,  and  the  private  theatricals,  afforded  endless  topics 
of  mirthful  discourse.  Though  there  was  not  much 
that  was  enlivening  in  the  siege  itself  to  those  who 
were  shut  up  in  the  narrow  limits  of  the  beleaguered 
town,  still  youth  and  good  spirits  would  make  their 
way,  and  find  a  thousand  divertisements  for  speeding 
the  weary  hours.  God  bless  them  !  what  would  this 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  177 

working-day  world  be  without  youth  and  good 
spirits  ? 

"  And  so  I  hear,"  said  the  fair  Clara,  at  last,  when 
they  had  pretty  well  exhausted  all  the  topics  which  a 
three  days'  absence  had  accumulated,  "  and  so  I  hear 
that  you  have  come  into  our  neighborhood.  And, 
pray,  how  do  you  like  your  landlord  ?" 

"  My  landlord  !  "  exclaimed  Hazlehurst  in  some 
surprise.  "  I  am  as  well  satisfied  with  him  as  a  man 
usually  is  with  himself ;  for  I  am  the  only  landlord 
that  I  have  to  my  knowledge,  unless  indeed  it  be  the 
quartermaster-general." 

"Ah,  you  put  it  off  very  well!"  persisted  Miss 
Forrester;  "but  be  honest  now,  has  not  Captain 
Honeywood  paid  his  respects  to  you  yet  ?  He  is 
much  too  fine  a  gentleman,  I  am  sure,  to  have 
neglected  it." 

"I  have  not  the  honor  to  understand  you,  Miss 
Forrester,"  replied  the  Captain.  "  It  was  never  my 
chance  to  hear  the  gallant  Captain's  name  before. 
Pray,  in  what  service  might  he  be  ?" 

"  Oh,  in  the  sea  service,  you  may  be  sure," 
answered  the  lady ;  "  but  did  you  never  hear  of  the 
noble  Captain,  who  makes  continual  claim,  as  papa 
says "  (papa  was  a  lawyer),  "  to  the  Vaughan 
house  ? " 

"  Never,  upon  my  honor,"  protested  Hazlehurst. 
"And  I  shall  feel  myself  especially  obliged  if  you 
will  introduce  me  to  his  acquaintance." 

"Heaven  forbid!"  exclaimed  Clara,  laughing,  "but 
12 


178  THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

I  have  no  objection  to  talking  a  little  about  him 
behind  his  back." 

"  That  is  better  yet,"  said  Hazlehurst.  "  It  is  to 
be  hoped  then  that  his  character  is  bad  enough  to 
be  well  talked  over." 

"Bad  enough  to  gratify  your  warmest  wishes,  I 
assure  you.  I  believe  he  was  as  wicked  an  old 
villain  as  you  could  possibly  desire  to  see,"  replied 
Clara. 

"Many  thanks  for  the  compliment  to  my  taste," 
answered  the  Captain,  bowing,  "  but  did  you  ever 
happen  to  know  this  amiable  individual  ? " 

"  Know  him  ? "  cried  Clara.  "  Good  Heavens !  why, 
he 's  been  dead  these  sixty-five  years ! " 

"  Bless  me  ! "  exclaimed  Hazlehurst,  "  dead  sixty- 
five  years,  and  yet  lay  claim  to  a  good  piece  of  real 
estate !  What  an  unconscionable  old  dog !  I  only 
hope  his  example  will  not  be  very  extensively  fol 
lowed." 

"  It  is  to  be  hoped  not,"  responded  the  lady,  "  but 
if  you  really  do  not  know  about  the  claimant  to 
your  premises,  I  will  tell  you  all  I  know  about  him, 
which  is  little  enough." 

"  You  will  lay  me  under  everlasting  obligations,*' 
bowed  the  Captain,  as  he  inclined  his  ear  to  her  in 
mock  seriousness. 

"Well,  then,  all  I  know  about  him  is,"  resumed 
Miss  Forrester,  "  that  he  was  a  master  of  a  vessel 
out  of  this  port,  some  hundred  years  since,  who 
went  to  sea,  and  was  gone  five  or  six  years  with- 


THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT.         179 

out  any  tidings  being  heard  of  him.  At  last,  how 
ever,  he  returned  in  a  ship  from  Europe,  telling  that 
his  vessel  was  lost  in  the  East  Indies,  and  no  soul 
•was  saved  but  himself,  who  was  taken  up  by  a 
Dutch  vessel,  and,  after  various  adventures,  found 
his  way  home  again.  This  story  would  have  done 
very  well,  had  he  not  soon  made  a  great  display  of 
wealth,  among  other  things  building  the  house  in 
which  you  (and  people  do  say  lie)  now  reside.  This 
went  on  for  a  few  years,  and  by  dint  of  giving  good 
dinners,  going  regularly  to  meeting  and  Thursday 
lectures,  and  being  eminently  liberal  to  one  or  two 
of  the  most  influential  ministers,  he  was  getting  to 
be  in  very  good  odor  with  the  Boston  public.  There 
were  those,  to  be  sure,  who  still  marvelled  whence 
he  got  his  wealth.  Some  thought  it  must  be  witch 
craft,  but  the  majority,  more  charitable,  believed  it 
to  be  only  piracy  and  murder.  Their  suspicions 
were  confirmed  by  the  occasional  moody  and  de 
pressed  turns  to  which  Captain  Honeywood  was 
subject.  People  thought  that  there  was  something 
weighing  upon  his  mind.  This,  however,  did  not 
prevent  a  young  lady  of  one  of  the  chief  families 
from  being  willing  to  marry  him,  and  the  ceremony 
was  about  to  be  celebrated  with  all  the  pomp  which 
the  times  permitted,  when  they  were  prevented  by 
an  untoward  occurrence.  It  so  happened  that  the 
very  night  before  the  marriage  was  to  take  place,  a! 
sloop  of  war  came  into  the  harbor,  with  orders  to 
arrest  our  amiable  friend,  and  carry  him  to  England 


180  THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

for  trial,  on  a  charge  of  murder  and  piracy.  It 
seems  that  a  sailor  had  been  arrested  for  a  recent 
impropriety  of  this  sort,  who  had  purchased  his  own 
pardon  by  revelations  touching  our  valuable  towns 
man.  The  Captain  of  the  sloop-of-war  came  up  to 
the  Province  House,  and  communicated  his  orders 
to  Governor  Phipps,  who,  with  the  sheriff  and  other 
officials,  proceeded  to  effect  the  arrest.  But  on  ar 
riving  at  the  scene  where  it  was  to  be  completed, 
they  found  themselves  too  late.  The  bird  was 
flown.  They  searched  the  house  and  the  neighbor 
hood,  and  offered  large  rewards,  but  all  was  in  vain. 
The  Captain  was  never  heard  of  again.  The  dis 
affected  in  the  colony  hinted  that  notice  was  given 
to  Honeywood,  by  persons  in  authority,  of  the  de 
sign  to  take  him,  in  time  to  favor  his  escape. 
Others,  and  this  was  the  opinion  of  no  small  num 
ber,  believed  that  the  devil  had  for  once  helped  a 
friend  upon  a  pinch,  and  spirited  him  away.  Some 
supposed  that  he  had  concealed  himself  in  some 
secret  place  designed  for  this  emergency  in  his 
house,  and  had  there  starved  to  death.  At  any  rate, 
he  was  heard  of  no  more.  In  due  time  sentence 
of  outlawry  was  passed  upon  him,  and  his  house, 
with  his  other  property,  declared  forfeited  to  the 
crown.  When  it  was  sold,  and  the  purchaser  took 
possession  of  his  estate,  it  was  found  to  be  more  than 
the  crown  of  England  could  do  to  give  him  a  quiet 
possession.  The  pranks  that  were  played,  the  noises 
that  were  heard,  the  sights  that  were  seen,  among 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  181 

them  the  apparition  of  the  very  Captain  himself, 
are  not  to  be  told.  The  intruder  was  soon  forced 
to  quit  the  premises.  All  who  subsequently  ven 
tured  to  occupy  the  house  were  ejected  in  a  like 
summary  manner.  For  years  it  stood  untenanted. 
Property  in  the  street  fell  in  value,  and  people  were 
afraid  to  pass  through  it  after  nightfall.  After  many 
years  had  elapsed,  an  elderly  man  arrived  from  Eng 
land,  with  the  avowed  intention  of  spending  the  rest 
of  his  days  here.  He  could  not  be  suited  to  a  house 
to  his  mind,  and  at  length  pitched  upon  this  deserted 
one.  He  bought  it  at  a  low  price,  and,  in  spite  of  its 
ill  name,  fitted  it  up  for  his  residence,  and  there  spent 
the  remainder  of  his  days.  He  shook  his  head  when 
questioned  as  to  the  claims  of  its  former  possessor, 
and  gave  people  to  understand  that  he  could  tell 
much  if  he  chose.  So  the  ill-repute  of  the  mansion 
continued  unimpaired.  It  was  a  singular  fact  that  he 
found  the  lady  of  the  love  of  the  former  inhabitant 
still  unmarried,  and  by  some  strange  coincidence  they 
married  each  other,  and  lived  together  in  as  much 
comfort  as  the  ghost  of  his  predecessor  would  allow. 
That  is  his  portrait  that  you  may  have  seen  in  the 
chamber  over  the  right-hand  parlor" — 

"And  who,"-  interrupted  Hazlehurst,  "is  the  young 
lady  in  the  same  room  ? " 

"  That,"  replied  Clara,  "  is  the  portrait  of  his 
granddaughter,  the  only  child  of  his  only  daughter, 
the  child  of  his  old  age, —  my  dear  friend  Fanny 
Vaughan.  For  you  must  know  that  after  his  death 


182  THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

his  heiress  married  Colonel  Vaughan,  and  this  is  the 
way  in  which  the  house  came  into  the  Vaughan 
family." 

"  And,  pray,"  inquired  the  Captain,  "  did  this  in 
exorable  claimant  continue  to  keep  up  his  claim  to 
his  property  under  the  Vaughan  dynasty  ?  " 

"  It  is  so  asserted  and  believed  by  the  common 
people,"  said  Clara,  laughing ;  "  it  would  be  a  pity  to 
spoil  so  good  a  story,  and  any  disclaimers  on  the 
part  of  the  reigning  family  have  been  always  re 
ceived  with  a  proper  degree  of  incredulity.  But 
here  ends  my  story,  and  I  must  say  that  I  think  it  a 
passably  good  one." 

As  she  ceased  speaking,  she  stretched  out  her  hand 
to  the  bell-pull  and  gave  it  a  gentle  pressure.  Hazle- 
hurst  thanked  her  gayly  for  her  narrative,  which  he 
protested  was  one  of  the  best  authenticated  ghost 
stories  he  had  ever  heard.  As  he  was  speaking,  the 
same  negro  who  had  opened  the  door  for  him  entered 
with  a  salver  of  wine  and  cake. 

"  Where  is  James  ? "  inquired  Miss  Forrester,  with 
an  air  of  the  slightest  possible  vexation.  The  serv 
ant  replied  by  a  succession  of  grotesque  gestures, 
and  some  sounds  which  seemed  to  be  unintelligible 
gibberish  to  Hazlehurst. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  young  mistress,  and  dis 
missed  the  uncouth  attendant. 

"You  seem  to  have  a  new  page  of  honor,"  said 
Hazlehurst,  smiling.  "I  do  not  think  I  have  ever 
seen  this  groom  of  the  chambers  before." 


THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  183 

"  No,"  replied  Clara,  a  little  confused  at  the  ex 
posure  of  this  unseemly  appendage  to  her  well-ap 
pointed  household,  "  I  dare  say  you  have  not.  He 
never  before  made  his  appearance  in  the  parlor  when 
any  one  was  here.  I  suppose  James  was  sent  out  by 
my  father.  He  was  a  servant  of  a  family  that  we 
knew  well,  and  that  left  the  town  at  the  latest  allow 
able  instant,  in  such  haste  as  to  leave  this  faithful 
follower  behind,  who  happened  to  be  out  of  the  way 
at  the  moment.  He  was  the  most  devoted  creature, 
but  is  a  little  unsettled  in  his  intellects,  in  conse 
quence  of  a  blow  upon  the  head  received  in  defend 
ing  his  master  from  an  attack  from  some  street 
ruffians  late  at  night.  My  father  found  poor  Peter 
in  great  distress,  and  took  him  home  out  of  human 
ity  to  himself  and  friendship  to  his  master.  He  has 
been  even  stranger  than  usual  since  he  has  been 
with  us,  in  consequence  of  missing  his  old  friends, 
but  we  make  him  as  comfortable  as  we  can." 

"  I  am  sure  that  it  is  highly  to  your  honor  and 
that  of  your  father,"  said  Hazlehurst,  with  feeling ; 
"  but  I  see  that  it  is  about  time  for  me  to  repair  to 
the  mess-room,  if  I  have  any  regard  for  my  dinner. 
But  before  I  go,"  he  continued,  rising  as  he  spoke, 
"  will  you  permit  me  to  ask  the  honor  of  Miss  For 
rester's  hand  at  the  assembly  this  evening  ?" 

The  lady  smiled  an  assent,  and  the  young  officer 
took  his  leave  cheerily,  and  walked  up  the  street 
towards  the  Green  Dragon  with  a  much  better 
opinion  of  human  nature  in  general,  and  of  female 


184  THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

nature  in  particular,  than  he  had  entertained  when 
he  walked  down  it. 

On  arriving  at  the  mess-room,  he  found  himself 
very  closely  examined  as  to  his  experiences  of  the 
night  before,  especially  by  those  officers  who  had 
been  his  predecessors  in  his  quarters.  He  parried 
their  importunities,  however,  as  adroitly  as  he  could, 
and  kept  his  own  counsel  most  religiously.  He 
slipped  away  as  soon  as  he  could  after  the  cloth 
was  removed,  and  hastened  home  to  dream  over  his 
morning  with  the  gentle  Clara.  He  found  every 
thing  in  proper  order,  and  John  awaiting  his  com 
mands.  On  interrogation,  that  worthy  asseverated 
that  he  had  stoutly  denied  that  anything  unusual 
had  happened.  "He  hoped  he  had  not  been  an 
officer's  servant  so  long  without  knowing  how  to 
tell  a  lie  upon  occasion." 

"  Very  well,  John,"  said  the  Captain,  "  I  don't  be 
lieve  the  truth  will  suffer  in  your  hands.  So  you 
may  now  go  where  you  please,  only  be  here  at  six 
o'clock  to  dress  my  hair." 

John  departed,  and  his  master  sat  down  to  think 
over  the  doings  and  sayings  of  the  morning.  He 
could  not  but  examine  the  portrait  of  the  former 
inhabitant  of  the  apartment,  and  think  of  the  strange 
thoughts  that  must  have  haunted  him  while  he  sat 
in  that  place;  and  at  the  picture  of  his  lovely  grand 
child,  and  compare  her  charms  with  those  of  her 
lovely  friend,  —  I  need  scarcely  say  to  whose  advan 
tage.  The  adventures  of  the  preceding  night  troubled 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  185 

him  not;  he  was  haunted  by  another  and  more  dan 
gerous  phantom  in  that  solitary  chamber. 

At  length  he  was  aroused  from  his  revery  by  a 
knock  at  the  door,  which,  when  opened,  revealed  his 
orderly-sergeant,  whom  he  had  directed  to  come  to 
him  at  that  hour,  with  the  best  padlock  he  could  find 
in  Boston,  and  all  its  appliances.  The  man  had  been 
a  blacksmith,  and  he  soon  affixed  it  with  its  staple  to 
the  door  of  the  room  and  departed. 

"  If  the  ghost  come  to-night,  while  I  am  gone," 
said  Hazlehurst  to  himself,  "  he  shall  not  come  in  at 
the  door  if  I  can  help  it ! " 

When  John  had  returned,  and  the  toilet  was 
finished,  Captain  Hazlehurst  proceeded  to  set  forth 
for  Concert  Hall,  the  yet  surviving  scene  of  many 
a  pre-revolutionary  festivity.  He  dismissed  John 
with  instructions  to  meet  him  at  the  Hall  at  twelve 
o'clock.  As  he  was  leaving  the  room,  his  pocket 
struck  against  the  side  of  the  door. 

"There's  no  occasion  for  carrying  my  orderly- book 
with  me,  that  I  know  of,"  said  he,  carelessly,  to  him 
self,  and,  as  he  spoke,  threw  it  on  the  table  in  the 
centre  of  the  room.  He  then  locked  and  double- 
locked  the  door,  and  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure, 
applied  the  padlock,  and,  with  both  keys  in  his 
pocket,  walked  cheerily  up  the  street  to  the  scene 
of  action. 

I  wish  I  could  indulge  my  dear  readers  with  a 
description  of  that  brilliant  assembly,  but  the  inexo 
rable  limits  of  my  chapter  (which  I  have  already 


186         THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

overstepped)  forbid.  You  would  not  have  supposed 
that  the  scene  of  that  bright  and  gay  festival  was  in 
a  besieged  and  straitened  town.  One  of  the  finest 
bands  in  the  British  service  discoursed  its  sweetest 
music  to  inspire  the  dance.  The  Hall  was  admirably 
lighted,  and  decorated  with  flags  and  other  loyal  in 
signia.  The  Governor,  the  General  commanding  the 
troops,  with  their  brilliant  staffs,  the  officers  of  the 
various  regiments,  comprising  many  of  the  younger 
branches  of  the  best  families  of  England,  the  prin 
cipal  civil  functionaries,  and  the  loyal  gentlemen  of 
the  town,  all  in  the  rich  costume  of  the  days  when  a 
gentleman  was  known  by  his  dress,  were  present. 
And  there,  too,  were  the  dashing  wives  of  the  mar 
ried  officers,  and  the  flower  of  the  provincial  beauty 
that  still  remained  loyal  to  its  king.  The  appoint 
ments  of  the  supper,  the  plate-chests  of  the  several 
regimental  messes  being  laid  under  contribution  for 
the  purpose,  were  of  the  completest  description,  and 
the  table  was  covered  with  viands  and  wines  which 
showed  that  the  sea  was  yet  open  to  the  beleaguered 
army.  All  was  joy  and  mirth.  Every  one  seemed 
determined  to  shake  off  whatever  of  despondency 
the  darkening  prospects  of  the  siege  might  urge  upon 
their  hearts,  and  to  be  happy  for  at  least  one  night. 
Ah  !  What  a  glancing  of  scarlet  coats  and  of  gold 
lace  !  What  a  rustling  of  damasks  and  brocades  was 
there  !  But  of  all  the  brilliant  assemblage,  I  will 
.maintain  it  a  Voutrance,  there  was  none  that  sur 
passed  in  beauty  or  in  grace  my  Clara  Forrester  and 


THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  187 

her  Charles  Hazlehurst.  It  was  a  blessing  to  see 
them  glide  down  the  dance,  and  to  look  upon  their 
beaming  eyes.  Lord  Percy  shook  his  head,  when 
he  saw  how  his  young  favorite  had  taken  his  advice, 
and  smiled  inwardly  as  he  watched  them  without 
looking  at  them.  But  then  it  was  no  concern  of  his. 
He  had  discharged  his  duty  in  putting  Hazlehurst  on 
his  guard.  He  must  now  take  his  own  course,  on  his 
own  responsibility. 

But  such  evenings  (alas!  that  it  should  be  so!)  can 
not  last  forever.  At  a  late  hour  the  signal  for  break 
ing  up  was  given,  and  the  party  dispersed,  "shut  up 
in,  measureless  content."  Hazlehurst  handed  Clara 
into  her  carriage,  and,  I  am  afraid,  found  it  necessary, 
as  it  was  a  slippery  night,  to  hold  her  hand  rather 
closely  as  he  performed  this  duty.  I  recollect  /  used 
sometimes  to  find  it  unavoidable.  However,  she  drove 
off,  and  Hazlehurst,  followed  by  John,  walked  down 
Hanover  Street  to  his  quarters.  So  absorbed  was  he 
in  his  meditations  upon  the  hours  just  fled,  that  he 
thought  of  neither  ghost  nor  goblin  till  he  found  him 
self  at  the  door  of  his  room.  Reminded  by  the  sight 
of  his  padlock  of  the  reason  of  its  employment,  he 
said,  laughingly,  u  I  flatter  myself  that  I  have  been 
rather  more  than  a  match  for  his  ghostship  to-night ! 
But  we  shall  see." 

With  these  words  he  unlocked  his  various  fasten 
ings,  and,  followed  by  John,  made  his  way  into  the 
apartment.  A  few  embers  yet  glimmered  upon  the 
hearth,  and  John  soon  lighted  the  candles.  Hazle- 


188  THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

hurst  cast  his  eyes  around  the  room.  Everything 
was  in  its  proper  place  and  order.  He  chuckled 
inwardly  at  the  success  of  his  plan,  and  rubbed  his 
hands  with  internal  satisfaction.  Everything  was 
right,  no  intruder  had  been  there.  He  glanced  at 
the  table  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  He  started 
forward,  and  gazed  upon  it  yet  more  earnestly.  He 
stood  silent,  and  motionless  with  astonishment.  BY 
HEAVEN,  THE  ORDERLY-BOOK  WAS  GONE  ! 


CHAPTER   III. 

r  I  "HE  orderly-book  was  gone  !  Death  and  furies  ! 
-^  What  was  to  be  done  now  ?  The  pranks  of 
the  night  before,  though,  like  most  practical  jokes, 
more  amusing  to  their  perpetrators  than  to  their 
victims,  seemed  to  have  been  but  the  prologue  to  a 
more  serious  jest,  —  one  of  those  jests  which  are  para 
doxically  but  truly  called  "  no  joke."  As  long  as  the 
ghost  was  content  to  confine  the  overflowings  of  his 
animal  spirits  to  new  combinations  of  the  tables  and 
chairs,  to  a  novel  arrangement  of  the  bed-clothes,  or 
to  a  summary  divorce  of  the  shovel  and  tongs,  his 
effervescences,  if  not  absolutely  agreeable,  were  at 
least  not  positively  mischievous.  But  to  meddle 
with  what  was  none  of  his  business,  but,  on  the  con 
trary,  with  what  was  emphatically  the  business  of 
his  Majesty's  — th  regiment,  was  an  entirely  differ 
ent  affair.  The  ghost  could  not  be  a  loyal  ghost,  that 
was  plainly  to  be  seen.  Old  Honeywood,  to  be  sure, 
had  no  particular  reason  to  love  a  government  that 
intended  promoting  him  to  the  yard-arm,  if  it  could 
have  laid  hold  of  him  ;  but  it  was  not  handsome  in 
him  to  resort  to  such  a  pitiful  revenge  as  this,  partic 
ularly  in  his  own  house.  It  was  hardly  fair  to  visit 
the  sins  of  Queen  Anne's  Lords  of  the  Admiralty  upon 


190  THE   HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

an  unoffending  captain  and  adjutant  in  the  army  of 
King  George. 

It  is  plain  that  he  was  a  rebel  at  his  heart,  and, 
had  he  been  in  the  flesh,  would  have  waged  war  in 
the  name  of  the  Colonies  against  his  liege  sovereign, 
with  as  much  gusto  as  he  did  against  mankind  in 
general  on  his  own  account,  especially  if  there  hap 
pened  to  be  any  rich  London  or  Bristol  ships  within 
range  of  his  guns.  He  had  a  natural  taste  for  such 
pursuits :  his  only  mistake  lay  in  interfering  as  an 
amateur  in  what  was  strictly  a  professional  monopoly. 
There  is  great  virtue  in  a  commission  or  letter-of- 
marque.  A  piece  of  sheepskin  and  a  pair  of  epau 
lets  make  all  the  difference  in  the  world  in  the 
moral  qualities  of  actions.  In  many  cases  it  makes 
all  the  difference  between  a  hempen  cord  and  a  red 
ribbon  round  a  man's  neck.  Many  a  hero  has  gone 
out  of  the  world  in  the  embrace  of  a  halter,  his  achieve 
ments  only  recorded  in  the  Newgate  Calendar,  who, 
had  his  noun  substantive  been  only  qualified  by  an 
adjective  or  two,  would  have  received  "  the  Senate's 
thanks,"  have  glittered  with  medals  and  orders,  and 
been  commemorated  by  world-famous  historians  and 
poets.  Such  is  luck  !  But  it  is  none  of  my  business 
to  moralize  in  this  way.  All  I  have  to  do  is  to  relate 
this  true  passage  of  history  with  the  most  absolute 
accuracy  of  detail  Revenons  a  nos  moutons.  Let  us 
to  our  muttons  again. 

While  we  have  been  indulging  in  these  profitable 
reflections,  our  hero  has  been  through  a  variety  of 


THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  191 

evolutions.  First  he  stood  aghast,  as  if,  instead  of 
gazing  upon  nothing  at  all,  his  sight  had  been  blasted 
by  some  particularly  ill-favored  apparition.  This 
was  the  only  idea  that  his  look  and  gesture  commu 
nicated  to  his  trusty  squire,  who  turned  his  eyes  with 
difficulty  in  the  direction  of  his  master's  in  the  con 
fident  expectation  of  being  rewarded  by  the  vision  of 
a  raw-head  and  bloody-bones  at  the  very  least.  Dis 
appointed,  however,  of  any  such  pleasing  spectacle, 
he  was  by  no  means  so  ill  informed  in  the  very  rudi 
ments  of  demonology,  as  not  to  know  that  it  did  not 
necessarily  follow,  because  he  could  discern  nothing 
beyond  the  common,  that  his  master  was  equally 
unfortunate. 

"  What  is  it,  sir  ?  Where  is  it,  sir  ? "  inquired  John, 
in  a  voice  of  hollow  emotion. 

"  The  orderly-book,  you  scoundrel !  the  orderly- 
book  ! "  responded  the  Captain,  in  a  low,  concentrated 
tone. 

"  The  orderly-book,  your  Honor !  "  returned  John. 
"  Well,  sir,  I  never  heard  of  the  ghost  of  a  book 
walking  before  !  What  does  it  look  like,  sir  ? " 

It  is  evident  that  John  was  not  a  reading  man  (the 
march  of  mind  had  not  then  been  taken  up,  nor  had 
the  schoolmaster  gone  abroad),  or  he  would  have 
known  that  nothing  is  more  common  than  for  the 
ghost  of  a  book  to  walk.  Indeed,  what  is  a  book  but 
the  ghost  of  the  man  that  writes  it  ?  Oh,  blessed 
necromancy  of  reading,  mightier  than  that  of  the 
Governor  of  Glubdubdrib,  or  the  Island  of  Enchant- 


192         THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

ers,  once  visited  by  that  only  truthful  traveller, 
Lemuel  Gulliver!  For  whereas  his  could  only 
command  the  departed  for  the  space  of  twenty-four 
hours,  thine  can  summon  them  to  the  presence  at  all 
seasons  and  for  any  time.  But  John  did  not  know 
this,  and  so  he  asked  what  the  ghost  of  the  orderly- 
book  looked  like. 

"  Look  like,  you  villain ! "  somewhat  testily 
answered  Hazlehurst.  "  It  looks  like  nothing  at  all. 
It 's  gone,  you  dog  ! " 

"  Gone  already,  sir ! "  exclaimed  the  astonished 
John.  "  And  where  was  it,  sir  ? " 

"  Exactly  in  the  middle  of  the  table  there,  with  its 
right  cover  leaning  against  the  candlestick,  its  hinder 
end  cocked  up  upon  the  inkstand." 

"  Bless  my  soul ! "  shuddered  John  at  this  pictur 
esque  description.  "  And  how  long  ago  is  it  since 
your  Honor  saw  it  last  ?  " 

"  Just  as  I  was  going  to  the  assembly  this  evening," 
replied  his  master. 

"  0  Lord  !  is  that  all  ? "  exclaimed  the  man,  much 
relieved.  "  I  thought  your  Honor  had  just  seen  it, 
when  I  could  see  nothing  at  all." 

"  Confound  your  nonsense  ! "  returned  the  Captain 
sharply.  "  I  wish  to  God  that  I  had  seen  it !  What 
under  Heaven  I  am  to  say  about  it  to  Lord  Percy 
to-morrow,  God  knows  !  But  light  all  the  candles  in 
the  room,  and  let  us  have  a  thorough  search  for  it, 
though  it  is  not  likely  that  it  is  here." 

This  foreboding  was  but  too  true.     His  prophetic 


THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  193 

heart  had  told  him  an  ower  true  tale.  They  looked 
above,  around,  and  underneath.  They  crawled  over  the 
floor  on  their  hands  and  knees,  and,  like  the  serpent 
of  old,  "upon  their  belly  did  they  go"  under  the 
bed.  They  looked  into  every  drawer,  and  inspected 
the  most  impossible  places.  But  it  was  all  in  vain. 
The  mystic  volume  was  not  to  be  found  in  the  wood- 
box,  nor  did  it  drop  from  the  inverted  jack-boots.  The 
window-seats  were  ignorant  of  its  whereabout,  and 
the  window-curtains  wotted  not  of  its  presence.  The 
cooking  utensils  knew  not  of  it,  and  their  basket  and 
their  store  was  not  blessed  with  its  possession. 
Where  the  devil  could  it  be  ?  It  seemed  as  if  the 
devil  only  could  tell. 

There  was  no  sign  of  any  other  disturbance  in  their 
premises.  This  made  the  matter  look  the  more  mys 
terious.  It  was  a  much  more  awful  affair  than  if  the 
disappearance  of  the  book  had  been  accompanied  by 
any  of  the  gambols  and  funniments  of  the  night 
before.  That  looked  like  fun  :  this  looked  like  earnest. 
The  orderly-book  contained  information  relating  to 
the  strength  and  state  of  the  royal  forces,  which  it 
was  of  the  last  importance  should  not  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  rebels.  And  beside  this  there  were 
loose  papers,  given  to  our  hero  by  Lord  Percy  to  be 
copied,  as  he  acted  in  some  sort  as  his  private  secre 
tary  as  well  as  adjutant,  which  were  of  a  still  more 
secret  nature  ;  such,  for  example,  as  his  lordship's 
reply  to  the  requisition  of  the  commander-in-chief  for 

the  opinions  of  his  principal  officers  as  to  the  state 
13 


194  THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

of  affairs  in  the  town,  and  the  best  course  to  be 
pursued.  This,  and  other  documents,  involved  an 
amount  of  intelligence  as  to  facts  and  opinions, 
which  might  be  of  infinite  mischief  if  they  fell  into 
the  enemy's  hands.  Hazlehurst  knew  too  well  what 
a  mass  of  disaffection  existed  in  the  town,  not  to  feel 
that  the  worst  was  but  too  probable. 

After  every  place,  probable  and  improbable,  had 
been  ransacked,  and  to  no  purpose,  the  search  was 
abandoned  for  the  night.  The  room  was  secured  as 
far  as  locks  and  bolts  were  concerned,  though  they 
seemed  to  be  of  but  little  moment  in  this  chamber  of 
bedevilment,  and  Captain  Hazlehurst  retired  moodily 
to  bed  to  seek  for  such  rest  as  he  could  find.  It  was 
an  uncomfortable  night,  to  be  sure  ;  not  from  any 
renewal  of  the  disturbances  of  the  night  before,  for 
all  was  quiet,  but  from  his  harassing  thoughts  and 
internal  vexation.  His  sleep  was  broken  by  visions 
of  his  interview  with  his  commander,  in  which  he 
should  communicate  this  provoking  occurrence. 
Words  of  censure  and  reprimand  rung  in  his  ears. 
He  even  saw  himself,  in  the  phantasmagoria  of  his 
waking  dreams,  standing  without  his  sword  before  a 
court-martial  detailed  to  try  him  for  neglect  of  duty. 
In  the  confusion  of  his  thoughts  he  could  not  very 
accurately  determine  what  would  be  considered  the 
exact  measure  of  his  military  offence ;  but  he  could 
not  help  feeling  that  it  would  be  no  advantage  to  him 
in  his  professional  career,  even  in  the  most  favorable 
event.  He  cursed  the  evil  hour  in  which  he  sought 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  195 

these  unlucky  quarters,  and  heartily  wished  them, 
and  everything  connected  with  them,  at  the  devil. 
He  perplexed  his  thoughts  in  vain  with  conjectures 
as  to  the  motives  and  the  method  of  the  trick  that 
had  been  played  him  ;  and  though  he  resolved  not  to 
rest  until  he  had  plucked  out  the  heart  of  the  mystery, 
still  he  feared  that  the  injury  to  the  service  and  to 
his  own  prospects  would  be  completed  before  he  could 
accomplish  his  purpose.  It  was  a  miserable  business 
altogether.  If  he  escaped  with  a  reprimand  from 
headquarters,  and  with  the  dread  laugh  of  the 
mess-table,  he  would  be  a  lucky  fellow. 

I  have  often  wondered  how  much  the  beaming 
eyes  and  laughing  mouth  of  Clara  Forrester  mingled 
in  these  visions  of  the  night.  I  am  afraid  that  all 
the  little  loves  by  whom  he  had  been  escorted  down 
Hanover  Street,  after  he  had  put  Miss  Forrester  into 
the  carriage,  were  sent  to  the  right  about  by  the  first 
tempest  of  his  astonishment  and  vexation.  But  they 
are  volatile  creatures,  and,  though  easily  brushed 
aside  for  a  moment,  soon  return  again  to  the  charge. 
Like  flies,  it  is  easy  enough  to  drive  them  away  ;  but, 
before  you  can  congratulate  yourself  on  being  rid  of 
them,  back  they  are  again.  There  is  one  villain,  for 
example,  that  has  been  buzzing  about  me  all  the 
time  I  have  been  writing,  and  evidently  takes  an  in 
telligent  pleasure  in  tormenting  me.  "  Get  out,  you 
scoundrel!"  There  he  stands  on  my  paper,  rubbing 
his  hands,  and  shaking  his  head,  in  perfect  diabolic 
glee  at  his  success.  Ben  Jonson  and  the  old  drama- 


196  THE   HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

tists  knew  what  they  said  when  they  called  a  famil 
iar  spirit  —  a  young  devil,  saving  your  presences  — 
"  a  fly."  Just  $o  the  little  loves  come  fluttering  back 
again  after  you  think  you  have  effectually  scared 
them  away.  But  there  the  analogy  ends  ;  for  although 
they  do  mischief  enough  sometimes,  still,  like  my 
Lord  Byron,  "  I  cannot  call  them  devils."  They 
played  the  devil  with  me,  to  be  sure,  a  good  many 
times  in  my  hot  young  days,  but  I  don't  believe  they 
meant  any  harm.  At  any  rate,  I  should  then  have 
been  devilish  sorry  and  still  should  be  (but  that  is 
between  ourselves)  to  miss  their  gentle  ministrations 
altogether. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  I  have  the  best  reasons  for 
believing  that  they  returned  before  daybreak,  and 
buzzed  merrily  about  the  pillow  of  Hazlehurst.  The 
mosquito-net  is  not  yet  invented  that  can  keep  them 
out.  I  cannot  depone  positively  to  the  exact  pro 
portion  of  his  waking  or  of  his  sleeping  dreams  that 
was  of  their  weaving ;  for  I  am  scrupulous  never  to 
state  any  fact  in  an  historical  document  like  the 
present,  which  I  am  not  prepared  at  any  moment  to 
authenticate  by  affidavit  before  any -magistrate  or 
justice  of  the  peace.  But  I  am  quite  certain  that 
those  soft  eyes  and  that  bewitching  smile  floated 
before  his  mind's  eye,  mixed  up  even  with  his  least 
pleasant  anticipations.  In  case  of  the  worst,  youth 
and  nature  would  suggest  that  there  might  be  some 
comfort  yet  left  him.  Though  his  cup  might  be  a 
bitter  one,  still  there  was  at  least  one  cordial  drop  at 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  197 

the  bottom  of  it.  Though  censure  or  derision  might 
visit  his  misfortune,  still  there  was  one  whose  soft 
bosom  would  feel  with  him,  and  who  would  view  it 
with  the  eyes  of  love,  and  not  of  discipline. 

Perhaps  the  events  of  the  day  and  evening  had 
encouraged  this  state  of  feeling;  for,  to  be  candid, 
she  had  been  tolerably  encouraging.  He  felt  more 
sure  that  she  loved  him  than  he  had  ever  done  be 
fore  ;  and,  although  he  could  not  exactly  define  his 
own  views  and  intentions  in  the  premises,  still  he 
yielded  (and  who  can  blame  him  ?)  to  the  delicious 
dream  of  love.  If  any  of  my  readers  can  recall  to 
recollection  the  time  when  he  first  truly  believed  that 
he  was  beloved  by  a  beautiful  young  woman,  and 
yet  can  find  it  in  his  heart  to  wonder  that  Hazle- 
hurst  should  have  gilded  the  gloomy  hours  of  that 
unlucky  night  with  dreams  of  Clara  Forrester,  I 
wish  he  would  just  do  me  the  favor  to  lay  this  true 
history  aside.  He  is  not  worthy  to  be  my  reader. 
But  then  it  is  impossible  that  there  should  be  such 
a  man. 

The  hours  of  the  night  wore  on,  and  at  last  the 
morning  came.  It  was  a  black  morning  to  poor 
Hazlehurst ;  but  he  resolved  to  meet  the  unpleasant 
consequences  of  his  mishap  with  the  best  face  he 
could.  As  his  candle-light  toilet  was  proceeding,  the 
orderly-sergeant  called  for  the  book. 

"  I  shall  call  myself  upon  Lord  Percy,  "Williams, 
immediately  after  parade  :  so  you  need  not  wait." 

The  veteran  stared  a  little  at  this  deviation  from 


198  THE   HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

routine ;  but  it  was  bis  business  to  obey:  so  be  bowed 
and  retired. 

It  was  a  bitter  cold  morning,  and  tbe  keen  wind 
was  improved  in  sbarpness  by  the  broad  expanse  of 
frozen  water  which  then  separated  the  Common  from 
the  country  beyond ;  but  Hazlehurst  felt  warm  enough 
in  the  prospect  of  what  was  before  him.  There  is 
no  external  or  internal  application  of  a  more  calorific 
tendency  than  the  inevitable  necessity  of  doing  a 
particularly  disagreeable  piece  of  work  at  a  certain 
specified  hour  near  at  hand.  It  makes  the  heart 
seethe  like  a  caldron,  and  the  boiling  blood  is  sent 
bubbling  through  the  veins. 

The  parade  was  over :  the  troops  were  dismissed. 
Hazlehurst  was  moving  slowly  towards  the  mess- 
breakfast,  thinking  of  the  duty  that  must  follow  it, 
when  he  was  aroused  from  his  reveiy  by  hearing  a 
horse  reined  up  suddenly  by  his  side.  It  was  Lord 
Percy  himself. 

"  So  Williams  tells  me,  Hazlehurst,  that  you  have 
something  to  say  to  me.  Come  and  breakfast  with 
me,  my  boy,  and  you  will  have  the  best  of  opportu 
nities  to  say  it.  I  shall  be  quite  alone." 

"  It  will  give  me  infinite  pleasure,  my  lord,"  re 
plied  Hazlehurst,  "and  I  will  be  with  you  immedi 
ately." 

"  Eight,  right,"  said  his  lordship :  "punctuality  at 
drills  and  at  mess  is  a  great  military  virtue.  I  shall 
expect  you  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

With  these  words  he  cantered  along  the  frozen  road 


THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  199 

(for  it  could  hardly  be  called  a  street  then)  that  led 
to  his  excellent  quarters. 

I  am  afraid  that  my  hero  lied  the  least  in  the 
world,  when  he  said  that  it  would  give  him  infi 
nite  pleasure  to  breakfast  with  his  noble  friend  and 
commander.  Not  that  he  had  any  fears  as  to  the 
quality  of  his  breakfast  or  of  his  society ;  but  the 
thoughts  of  the  sauce  which  he  brought  to  both 
plagued  him  in  advance,  and  he  wished  that  a  longer 
time  and  a  wider  space  could  have  elapsed  before  it 
was  necessary  to  administer  it.  But  delay  was  use 
less  and  impossible :  so  he  strode  toward  the  quarters 
of  his  host  with  a  firm  tread,  and  ascended  the  long 
flight  of  steps  that  led  to  the  house,  and  gazed  upon 
the  trees  and  shrubs  in  the  courtyard,  all  glittering 
with  ice,  with  as  easy  and  careless  an  air  as  he  could 
assume. 

The  breakfast-room,  into  which  he  was  shown,  was 
a  spacious  wainscoted  apartment,  with  a  low  ceiling, 
but  an  air  of  great  comfort.  A  blazing  fire  of  logs 
roared  up  the  chimney ;  and  the  breakfast-table,  with 
all  its  appliances  of  luxury,  was  drawn  into  a  com 
fortable  proximity  to  it.  The  winter's  sun  looked 
brilliantly  through  two  windows  of  the  room.  Fresh 
plants  stood  in  the  windows,  and  old  pictures  looked 
down  from  the  walls.  It  was  not  Alnwick  Castle, 
nor  Sion  House,  to  be  sure;  but  it  was  a  very  inhab 
itable  place,  for  all  that.  An  older  campaigner  than 
his  lordship  might  have  thought  himself  well  off  in 
worse  quarters. 


200  THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

In  a  few  minutes  Lord  Percy  appeared, — having 
exchanged  his  uniform  coat  for  a  brocaded  dressing- 
gown,  and  his  military  boots  for  Turkish  slippers, — 
and,  after  a  cordial  welcome  to  his  young  friend,  rang 
the  bell  for  breakfast.  The  tray  was  brought;  the 
coffee  was  poured ;  the  eggs  were  cracked ;  the  toast 
was  crunched.  The  breakfast  was  despatched  with  the 
appetites  of  young  men  sharpened  by  a  daybreak 
parade  with  the  thermometer  at  zero.  Their  dis 
cussions  were  confined  to  the  good  things  before  them 
and  the  things  to  which  they  were  naturally  allied, 
until  the  table  was  cleared  and  the  servants  with 
drawn.  Then  Lord  Percy,  drawing  his  chair  up  to 
the  fire,  and  comfortably  nursing  his  left  leg  placed 
over  his  right  knee,  turned  to  Hazlehurst  with  an  air 
.•of  comic  gravity. 

"  Well,  my  lad,"  thus  his  lordship  opened  the  pala 
ver,  "  so  you  have  somewhat  to  say  to  me  ?  Faith  I 
thought  as  much  last  night ! " 

"Last  night,  my  lord!"  exclaimed  the  adjutant.  "I 
don't  know  that  I  rightly  apprehend  your  meaning." 

"  Oh,  of  course  not,"  replied  the  Earl.  "But  you  can 
hardly  suppose  that  I  failed  to  observe  how  carefully 
you  followed  my  advice  last  evening.  You  must 
not  suppose  that  Cupid  has  bandaged  all  our  eyes  as 
effectually  as  he  seems  to  have  done  yours." 

"  Ah,  yes ! "  replied  our  hero,  "  your  lordship  al 
ludes  to  my  little  flirtation  with  Miss  Forrester.  I 
was  only  following  your  own  advice,  to  fall  in  love 
with  two  or  three  at  the  same  time.  But  you  know 


THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  201 

my  lord,  that  it  is  necessary  to  begin  with  one.     Now 
I  beinn  with  Miss  Forrester." 

o 

"  Bravo,  bravo,  Hazlehurst ! "  said  Lord  Percy,  laugh 
ing.  "  A  ready  answer  is  a  good  thing,  in  love  or  in 
war.  Well,  well,  you  understand  your  own  affairs 
best,  and  are  old  enough  to  manage  them  for  your 
self.  Upon  my  honor,  I  can  hardly  blame  you,  young 
man.  I  was  half  inclined  to  fall  in  love  with  her 
myself  last  night.  She  is  a  fine  creature." 

"  One  does  not  often  see  a  finer,  indeed,  my  lord," 
answered  the  lover ;  "  but  you  are  quite  at  liberty  to 
enter  the  lists  with  me,  if  you  choose,"  he  doughtily 
continued  :  "  I  have  no  pretensions  to  any  monopoly 
in  that  quarter." 

I  believe  the  fellow  knew  he  lied  when  he  said 
that ;  but  these,  I  believe,  are  the  sort  of  lover's  per 
juries  at  which  Jove  laughs.  You  will  see  this  idea 
illustrated  and  enforced  in  my  folio  on  the  subject, 
now  in  the  press.  Whether  Jove  laughed  at  this  or 
not,  Lord  Percy  did,  as  he  replied,  — 

"  Very  likely,  very  likely.  Thank  you,  thank  you  ! 
I  do  not  know  that  I  should  like  to  run  the  risk, 
were  I  not  armed  in  proof  on  that  side.  Then  I  sup 
pose  your  business  of  this  morning  does  not  relate 
to  this  matter,  as  I  thought  at  first  it  might." 

"  No,  my  lord,"  answered  Hazlehurst,  plucking  up 
his  courage,  and  determined  to  have  it  over  at  once 
—  "  no,  my  lord.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  my  errand 
is  of  a  much  less  pleasant  character;  and  it  relates 
rather  to  war  than  to  love,  and  to  me  than  to  Miss 


202  THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

Forrester.  It  is  not  the  loss  of  my  heart,  but  of  your 
orderly-book,  that  is  in  the  question." 

"  The  orderly-book  lost,  Hazlehurst !  "  exclaimed 
Lord  Percy.  "  What  the  devil  do  you  mean  ? "  in  a 
tone  of  the  utmost  surprise  a  little  mixed  with  in 
credulity. 

"  Exactly  what  I  say,  my  lord,"  replied  the  adju 
tant,  waxing  cooler  as  he  went  on.  "  The  orderly-book 
and  all  its  contents  is  gone ;  and  what  is  worse  I  see 
no  sort  of  prospect  of  ever  recovering  it  again." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  repeat 
ed  the  Earl  in  great  astonishment.  "  You  know  very 
well  that  this  is  a  serious  matter,  and  can  hardly  be 
jesting." 

"  I  was  never  more  serious  in  my  life,  I  assure  you, 
my  lord/'  asseverated  the  young  officer.  "  I  wish  it 
may  turn  out  to  be  a  jest  in  the  end.  Sorry  as  I 
should  be  to  be  guilty  of  any  disrespect  to  your  lord 
ship,  I  would  willingly  encounter  your  displeasure 
for  an  untimely  jest,  so  that  the  service  were  in  no 
danger  of  mischief  from  this  unlucky  business." 

"But  how  could  it  be  lost,  Captain  Hazlehurst?" 
his  lordship  replied  a  little  sternly.  "  How  could  it 
be  lost,  when  it  was  in  your  custody,  and  you  could 
not  but  know  the  vital  importance  of  keeping  it  safe  ? 
How  came  it  lost,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  am  well  aware,  my  lord,"  replied  poor  Hazle 
hurst,  "of  the  importance  of  this  matter  to  his 
Majesty's  service,  as  well  as  to  my  own  honor  and 
prospects  —  if  I  may  mention  them  in  the  same  breath. 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  203 

I  beg  your  lordship  to  listen  patiently  to  the  story  I 
have  to  tell  you ;  and  I  beg  that  you  will  pardon  the 
apparent  nonsense  of  the  first  part  of  my  narration, 
as  you-  will  see  that  it  leads  to  a  serious  termination. 
I  presume  I  need  bring  no  other  evidence  of  the 
truth  of  my  statements  before  your  lordship's  tribunal 
than  my  own  assertion.  The  evidence  of  my  servant 
will  be  ready  to  corroborate  them  before  less  friendly 
judges,  should  the  matter  end  as  seriously  as  I  fear  it 
may." 

He  then  proceeded  to  relate  to  his  commander  the 
whole  history  of  his  two  last  nights,  from  the  myste 
rious  footsteps  to  the  vanishing  of  the  orderly-book. 
His  lordship  looked  grave  as  the  story  proceeded,  and, 
rising,  walked  thoughtfully  about  the  room  after  it 
was  finished.  At  length  he  thus  addressed  his  young 
friend,  who  sat  in  anxious  expectation,  — 

"  This  is  a  strange  business,  Hazlehurst,  a  very 
strange  business.  I  am  afraid  there  is  mischief  in  it. 
At  first  I  thought  it  might  be  a  mystification  of  some 
of  your  messmates :  but  they  would  hardly  have  ven 
tured  upon  such  a  denouement" 

"  That  is  my  own  opinion,  my  lord.  The  pranks 
of  the  night  before  were  all  fair,  though  a  little  rough 
play.  But  I  do  not  think  that  the  ennui  of  a  garrison 
life,  however  much  it  may  sharpen  the  wits  of  its 
victims,  would  lead  them  to  commit  an  action  which 
might  injure  the  service,  to  say  nothing  of  the  char 
acter  of  a  brother-officer." 

"That  is  true  enough,  Hazlehurst,"    resumed   his 


204  THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

lordship.  "  I  think  it  must  be  a  contrivance  of  some 
of  the  disguised  rebels  in  this  cursed  town  to  assist 
their  rascally  friends  on  the  other  side  of  the  river. 
My  God !  I  would  have  sooner  lost  the  best  horse  in 
my  stables  than  have  had  those  papers  fall  into  the 
rebels'  hands." 

"  I  hope  that  your  lordship  does  not  look  upon  my 
part  in  this  unfortunate  business  as  amounting  to 
culpable  negligence,  or  neglect  of  duty,"  Hazlehurst 
humbly  ventured  to  suggest,  seeing  that  his  com 
manding  officer  was  in  a  milder  mood  than  he  had 
apprehended  he  would  be. 

"  Why,  as  to  that  matter,  my  friend,"  replied  his 
lordship,  "you  can  hardly  think,  that  sitting  here  with 
you  as  my  fellow-officer  and  companion,  when  off 
duty,  I  can  attribute  any  moral  blame  to  you  for 
this  accident.  Whether  you  may  not  be  regarded 
as  responsible  in  a  military  sense  for  the  loss  of  this 
valuable  book,  is  a  question  I  can  express  no  opinion 
about  here  and  at  this  time,  as  I  may  have  to  form 
one  officially  on  the  subject  before  long.  The  book 
was  properly  in  your  custody:  if  it  be  not  forth 
coming  when  regularly  demanded,  the  question  will 
arise,  Why  ?  •  And  it  is  not  for  me  to  decide  now 
whether  the  facts  you  have  stated  will  be  considered 
sufficient  to  discharge  your  responsibility." 

"  Will  your  lordship  have  the  goodness  to  advise 
me  what  course  to  pursue  under  these  circumstances 
—  as  a  friend,  as  one  gentleman  advising  another  in 
a  case  of  difficulty,  and  not  as  my  superior  officer  ?" 


THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  205 

"Why,  my  dear  fellow,"  returned  the  stout  Earl, 
sincerely  feeling  for  his  young  favorite  in  his  awk 
ward  predicament,  "  the  best  advice  I  can  give  you  is 
to  ferret  out  these  rascals,  and  find  the  orderly-book 
again  before  it  is  missed.  When  that  fails,  we  will 
see  what  can  be  done  next." 

"But  how  much  grace  have  I  to  make  search,  even 
if  I  could  get  a  clew  to  the  villauy,  before  it  must  be 
reported  at  headquarters  ?  " 

"  I  can  give  you  only  till  next  Saturday,  when  I 
must  make  up  my  full  weekly  report  to  General  Howe. 
There  is  no  need  of  saying  anything  about  it  before 
then ;  and  it  gives  you  four  whole  days  to  work  in, 
as  it  is  now  only  Tuesday  morning.  Leave  no  stone 
unturned,  my  good  fellow,  to  get  at  the  bottom  of  this 
affair.  Much  may  be  done  in  four  days." 

"  I  am  heartily  obliged  to  you,  my  lord,"  said  Hazle- 
hurst  gratefully,  for  he  felt  much  relieved  and  com 
forted  by  the  kindness  of  Lord  Percy's  words  and 
manner,  "  and  you  may  be  sure  that  I  will  lose  no 
time  in  sifting  this  matter  to  the  best  of  my  abili 
ties.  And  you  may  be  sure,  also,  that  your  lordship's 
goodness  and  consideration  for  me  will  be  gratefully 
remembered  by  me  as  long  as  I  live,  whatever  may 
be  the  event  of  this  affair." 

"  Keep  up  a  good  heart,  my  lad,"  returned  the  Earl 
kindly,  "and  hope  bravely  for  the  best.  You  may 
rely  upon  my  doing  all  I  can  for  you  consistently 
with  my  duty.  And  now  you  had  better  set  about 
your  inquiries,  as  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost.  And 


206  THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

when  Williams  comes  to  you,  send  him  to  me,  and  I 
will  have  a  new  orderly-book  ready  for  you  before 
evening  parade." 

With  these  words  the  heir  of  "  the  Percy's  high 
born  race  "  bowed  his  visitor  out  of  the  room.  Hazle- 
hurst  descended  the  steps  with  a  lighter  heart  than 
when  he  had  ascended  them,  and  he  felt,  what  we 
have  all  felt  in  our  time,  how  much  more  unpleasant 
the  discharge  of  a  disagreeable  duty  is  in  the  antici 
pation  than  in  the  actual  performance.  His  actual 
position  was  in  no  wise  changed,  and  yet  he  felt  as 
if  it  were  bettered.  Such  is  the  relief  of  the  commu 
nication  of  a  secret  sorrow,  and  such  the  magic  of  a 
kind  thought  fitly  clothed  with  words  of  kindness. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  one  very  excellent  thing  in 
this  world.  There  is  at  least  one  article  which  every 
body  is  ready  to  give  away,  though  there  are  compara 
tively  few  who  are  ready  to  accept  it.  I  mean  there 
is  a  great  deal  of  very  good  ADVICE  floating  about. 
James  Smith,  I  think  it  was,  once  suggested  the  for 
mation  of  "  A  Society  for  the  Suppression  of  «rf-Yice." 
But  I  am  sure  I  should  not  encourage  such  an  insti 
tution.  Why,  bless  you !  I  don't  know  what  my 
neighbors  would  do  if  my  issues  of  advice  were 
stopped  or  curtailed.  The  interest  I  take  in  their 
affaire  is  worth  much  more  to  me  than  the  ten  per 
cent  I  get  for  my  money.  I  really  don't  think  the 
neighborhood  could  get  along  at  all  without  my 
advice.  "It's  unknown"  what  good  I  do,  as  were 
the  tears  Mrs.  Malaprop  shed  at  the  death  of  her  poor 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  207 

dear  Mr.  Malaprop.  I  consider  the  benevolent  How 
ard  as  a  hard-hearted  villain  in  comparison  with  me. 
No,  no !  it  will  never  do  to  suppress  advice.  The 
difficulty  in  this  branch  of  benevolence  lies  in  finding 
out  how  to  apply  the  advice  to  practice.  But  that 
is  the  concern  of  the  party  benefited.  If  he  do  not 
know  how  to  avail  himself  of  your  good  advice,  that 
is  no  affair  of  yours.  Dr.  Johnson  settled  it  long  ago, 
that  no  man  should  be  expected  to  furnish  ideas  and 
understanding  at  the  same  time. 

Now,  here  was  a  case  in  point.  Lord  Percy  had 
given  Captain  Hazlehurst  some  very  excellent  advice  : 
the  perplexity  was  to  know  what  to  do  with  it,  now 
he  had  got  it.  It  was  very  easy  for  his  lordship 
to  say,  "Hazlehurst,  ferret  out  these  rascals,  find 
the  orderly-book  again ; "  but  it  was  quite  another 
affair  for  the  gallant  Captain  to  reduce  his  instructions 
to  practice.  However,  he  resolved  to  do  his  best ; 
and,  as  safety  is  said  to  be  found  in  a  multitude  of 
counsellors,  he  thought  he  might  as  well  take  some 
more  advice  —  on  the  homoeopathic  principle  adopted 
by  the  philosopher  of  Islington  for  the  recovery  of 
his  eyes  after  they  had  been  scratched  out  in  his 
celebrated  leap  into  the  quickset  hedge.  So  he 
thought  he  would  take  into  his  counsels  some  of  his 
trustiest  comrades  and  especial  cronies. 

Calling  at  Captain  Lyndsay's  quarters,  he  was  so 
fortunate  as  to  find  him  at  home,  and  his  Pylades, 
Major  Ferguson,  with  him.  Dr.  Holcombe  was  speed 
ily  summoned  to  the  council ;  and  Hazlehurst  soon 


208  THE   HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

laid  the  matter,  under  strict  injunctions  of  secrecy, 
before  them.  It  was  a  grave  matter,  requiring  all 
the  aids  that  reflection  or  art  could  afford.  Accord 
ingly,  they  lighted  the  calumet  of  consideration,  and 
sought  for  illumination  in  the  circling  clouds  of  smoke 
that  curled  around  their  heads.  In  those  days,  dear 
reader,  cigars  were  not ;  but  pipes  daily  reminded  frail 
mortals  that  they,  too,  were  made  of  clay,  and  that 
their  lives  were  but  as  a  vapor  of  smoke,  that  soon 
vanisheth  away. 

But  as  suffumigation,  though  a  powerful  agent,  did 
not  seem  to  be  alone  sufficient  to  summon  the  powers 
most  needed,  the  worthy  surgeon,  as  one  well  skilled 
in  potent  mixtures,  brewed  a  smoking  caldron,  in 
which  he  mingled  many  opposite  ingredients,  of 
various  kingdoms  of  nature  [to  make  the  mixture 
"  slab  and  good "].  When  his  incantations  were 
ended,  the  magic  bowl  was  placed  in  the  centre  of 
the  circle,  and  was  solemnly  passed  round  from 
mouth  to  mouth  of  those  who  sought  from  it  wis 
dom  and  inspiration.  In  those  primitive  days,  the 
heresy  of  ladles  had  not  yet  entered  the  pale  of 
orthodox  good-fellowship.  The  genial  mother-bowl 
was  not  then  split  up  into  as  many  sects  as  there 
were  disciples.  I  beg  to  be  distinctly  understood 
that  I  by  no  means  sanction  this  concoction  of  the 
"  medicine-man,"  nor  do  I  wish  to  imply  that  the 
spirits  thus  summoned  to  their  aid  were  the  best 
assistants  in  council  or  in  action.  I  merely  relate 
the  fact,  and  leave  it  for  others  to  form  their  own 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  209 

opinions  about  it.  It  is  not  my  fault  if  they  drank 
punch,  and  smoked  pipes,  in  the  morning.  But  what 
would  posterity  say  to  me,  if  I  suppressed  so  impor 
tant  a  feature  of  this  important  consultation,  from  a 
wish  to  whitewash  their  characters  in  the  eyes  of 
this  water-drinking  generation  ? 

"By  Jove,  Hazlehurst!"  said  Major  Ferguson, 
knocking  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  "this  is  the  most 
extraordinary  ghost  I  ever  heard  of,  and  one  that  will 
take  a  bishop,  at  least,  to  lay  him." 

"  In  default  of  a  bishop,"  suggested  Lyndsay, "  here 
is  the  Doctor,  who  as  a  university  man,  and  one  of  a 
learned  profession  renowned  for  making  ghosts,  must 
serve  us  for  want  of  a  better  man." 

"  This  is  the  first  time,"  said  the  Doctor,  setting 
down  the  bowl,  from  which  he  had  been,  in  a  most 
unprofessional  manner,  engaged  in  swallowing  his 
own  prescription  —  "this  is  the  first  time  in  my  life 
that  I  was  ever  taken  for  a  conjurer.  But,  as  Fergu 
son  justly  remarks,  as  this  is  a  case  calling  for  the 
piety  of  a  bishop,  I  am  certainly  the  only  man  in 
company  fit  for  the  adventure." 

"  I  wish  to  Heaven  you  would  undertake  it,  then," 
said  Hazlehurst,  who  thought  his  friends  rather  in 
clined  to  make  light  of  a  serious  matter.  "  It  may 
be  sport  to  you,  but  it  is  "  — 

"Not  death  to  you,  my  dear  fellow,"  interposed 
the  Doctor :  "  you  are  not  so  easily  killed,  as  the  d — d 
Yankees  knew,  when  they  saw  you  running  up  Bun 
ker's  Hill  faster  than  they  ran  down  it.  Besides,  you 
14 


210  THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

should  never  mention  death  in  the  presence  of  a  doc 
tor.  You  might  as  well  talk  of  cabbage  to  a  tailor. 
It 's  professional,  my  dear  fellow,  it 's  professional." 

"  I  wish,  then,"  resumed  Hazlehurst,  "  that  you 
would  bring  your  professional  artillery  to  bear  upon 
the  villain  who  has  stolen  the  orderly-book ;  and  you 
may  call  in  the  aid  of  your  natural  ally,  too,  if  you 
please." 

"  I  should  like  to  have  the  treatment  of  his  case," 
said  the  Doctor  thoughtfully.  "  I  think  that  I  could 
manage  it." 

"  And  I  should  like  to  have  the  qualifying  him  for 
your  treatment,  Doctor,"  said  Lyndsay.  "  I  am  quite 
sure  that  I  could  manage  that." 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt,"  replied  Holcombe.  "  Any 
fool  can  break  a  head.  It  takes  a  wise  man  to  mend 
it  again." 

"And  what,"  retorted  Lyndsay,  alluding  to  an 
operation  he  would  persist  in  considering  as  unne 
cessary,  in  consequence  of  a  knock  over  the  head 
at  Lexington,  —  "and  what  if,  in  mending  the  hole, 
he  makes  two  ? " 

"  He  puts  at  rest  forever,"  replied  the  Doctor 
gravely,  "  the  disputed  question,  whether  or  not  the 
party  had  any  brains.  There  were  not  much,  to  be 
sure;  but  it  can  never  be  denied  again  that  there 
were  some." 

"  Truce  to  banter,"  said  the  graver  Major  Ferguson, 
"  and  let  us  see  what  can  be  done  to  help  poor  Hazle 
hurst  out  of  this  scrape." 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  211 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  resumed  the  Doctor.  "  It  seems 
to  me  that  the  thing  to  be  done  is  to  set  a  trap  for 
the  thief.  But  what  the  deuce  shall  we  do  for  bait  ? 
—  unless,  indeed,  the  commander-in-chief  would  lend 
us  his  private  papers  for  the  purpose." 

"  He  cannot  be  a  vulgar  thief,"  said  Ferguson,  "  or 
he  certainly  would  not  have  left  your  tankard  and 
spoons  behind  him,  Hazlehurst." 

"  Not  only  the  plate,"  said  Hazlehurst,  "  but  my 
watch  and  purse,  lay  full  in  his  sight.  So  plunder 
could  not  have  been  his  object." 

"He  is  an  extraordinary  fellow,  certainly,"  said 
the  Doctor,  "and  we  must  as  certainly  contrive  to 
catch  him,  if  it  be  only  for  the  curiosity  of  the 
thing.  —  What  is  your  plan,  Ferguson  ? " 

"  I  can  suggest  nothing  better,"  said  the  Major, 
"  than  to  keep  a  strict  watch  for  a  few  nights,  both 
within  and  without  the  building ;  for  it  seems  to  ine 
our  only  chance  is  to  find  him  at  his  old  tricks,  or 
prowling  about  the  premises,  as  we  have  no  idea  of 
where  else  to  look  for  him." 

"  I  can  see  no  other  plan  that  we  can  follow,"  said 
Hazlehurst. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Lyndsay.  —  "  Can  you,  Doctor  ?  " 

"We  can  try  it,  at  any  rate,"  returned  the  leech. 
"  We  shall  probably  have  plenty  of  time,  in  the 
intervals  of  his  visitations,  to  devise  other  schemes. 
I  am  ready  for  my  share  of  the  watch ;  that  is,  if 
Hazlehurst's  punch  and  tobacco  are  what  they  should 
be." 


212  THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

"  You  need  have  no  fears  on  that  point,"  answered 
Hazlehurst ;  "  for  John  will  brew  you  an  Atlantic  of 
punch,  and  pile  you  up  a  Chimborazo  of  tobacco,  when 
he  knows  that  you  have  entered  into  an  alliance, 
offensive  and  defensive,  against  the  ghost." 

"  I  am  your  man,  then,"  cried  the  Doctor,  finishing 
the  punch,  "  and  I  will  bet  you  a  supper  at  the  Green 
Dragon  that  I  am  the  first  man  to  see  the  ghost." 

"  Done ! " 

" Done ! ! " 

"Done!]!" 

And  the  session  was  adjourned. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

\  FTER  the  conference  at  the  quarters  of  Captain 
•**  Lyndsay  was  broken  up,  our  hero  walked  delib 
erately  down  Hanover  Street  toward  his  own  abode. 
He  was  busily  planning  operations  in  accordance 
with  the  result  of  the  council  as  he  walked  along. 
But  he  was  not  so  much  absorbed  by  his  own  affairs 
or  his  own  meditations,  as  to  be  unconscious  of  his 
approach  to  the  habitation  of  his  ladye-love.  In 
those  days  it  was  an  essential  part  of  good  breeding 
for  a  gentleman  to  call  upon  his  partner  on  the  morn 
ing  after  a  ball,  "  and  humbly  hope  she  caught  no 
cold,"  though  he  had  to  canter  over  half  a  county  in 
the  service.  It  was  not  likely,  therefore,  that  Hazle- 
hurst  would  pretermit  the  performance  of  this  duty 
when  his  path  took  him  past  her  very  door.  So 
he  knocked  boldly,  and  was  speedily  admitted,  and 
ushered  into  the  presence  of  the  fair  Clara,  who, 
of  course,  was  expecting  his  visit.  She  wore  her 
apple-green  silk  that  morning, — a  color  I  would  not 
recommend  to  my  lady-readers,  unless  they  are  very 
sure  that  their  complexions  can  bear  it,  —  and,  by 
Heaven!  she  did  look  divinely.  It  is  provoking  to 
see  how  the  most  unbecoming  colors  will  set  off  a 
complexion  and  eyes  that  need  take  no  thought  for 


214  THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

themselves.  But  I  am  not  going  to  rave.  I  only 
state  the  simple  truth  in  saying  that  she  looked 
divinely:  at  least,  I  never  saw  anything  prettier 
than  the  sweet  glow  of  consciousness  that  mantled 
over  her  cheeks  and  neck,  and  the  smile  that  kin 
dled  in  her  eyes,  as  she  met  the  ardent  gaze  of  her 
advancing  lover.  At  any  rate,  I  am  quite  sure  that 
he  agreed  with  me  in  this  opinion ;  for  he  hardly 
seemed  to  know  whether  he  was  in  the  body  or  out 
of  the  body,  as  he  walked  up  the  room.  Lovers 
are  foolish  creatures  —  at  least,  so  I  have  heard,  for 
I  was  never  one  myself.  But  for  the  life  of  me  I 
can't  conceive  why  that  silly  Hazlehurst  should  have 
gone  and  seated  himself  in  the  arm-chair  on  the 
other  side  of  the  fireplace,  when  the  gentle  Clara 
had  taken  pains  to  leave  plenty  of  room  for  him 
on  the  sofa  by  her  side.  I  am  sure  I  never  should 
have  done  that.  However,  he  did,  and  it  is  my 
business  to  relate,  not  to  account  for,  the  fact. 

They  were  soon  seated  vis  a  vis,  with  nothing  but 
the  little  work-table  between  them,  and  there  seemed 
to  be  no  reason  why  they  should  not  make  themselves 
agreeable  to  one  another.  And  I  am  by  no  means 
sure  that  they  did  not,  although  they  had  very  little 
to  say  for  themselves  apparently.  What  Hazlehurst 
might  have  whispered  to  Clara  the  night  before,  at 
Concert  Hall,  as  they  stood  apart,  sheltered  by  a  bat 
talion  of  card-playing  dowagers,  and  covered  by  the 
full  burst  of  a  regimental  band,  I  am  unable  to  say, 
for  I  was  at  that  time  engaged  in  overhearing  what 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  215 

General  Howe  was  saying  to  Governor  Gage  at  the 
other  end  of  the  room.  But  I  think  it  must  have  been 
something  that  altered  their  relations  to  each  other 
in  some  way,  for  they  were  not  half  as  chatty  and 
conversable  as  they  were  the  day  before.  And  yet  it 
could  not  have  amounted  to  a  full  understanding,  or 
that  stupid  Hazlehurst  would  not  have  been  sitting 
two  yards  away,  looking  at  her  pretty  foot  (not  but 
what  it  was  well  worth  looking  at)  as  it  rested  on 
the  edge  of  the  footstool ;  nor  would  she  have  kept 
her  eyes  fixed  upon  her  embroidery  all  the  time  with 
the  prettiest  confusion  you  ever  saw.  And  I  don't 
believe  that  they  would  have  talked  over  the  night 
before  in  a  sort  of  way  that  made  it  perfectly  plain 
that  they  knew  nothing  at  all  of  what  they  were 
talking  about,  if  they  had  felt  quite  at  ease  in  their 
own  minds.  It  was  clear  that  they  were  thinking  of 
something  else  than  their  words.  Poor  Hazlehurst 
was  evidently  in  the  state  of  mind  of  an  unlucky 
moth  that  has  been  well  advised  by  its  wisers  and 
betters,  that  candles  are  dangerous  things  in  general, 
and  especially  that  specific  candle  in  particular,  and 
who  yet  cannot  keep  itself  away  from  the  shining 
mischief.  The  attraction  of  the  brilliant  object  be 
fore  him  was  quite  too  much  for  any  dimly  remem 
bered  warnings  of  his  distant  family  against  American 
beauties,  or  for  the  fresher  hints  of  his  friendly  com 
mander,  to  keep  him  from  flying  at  last  into  the  flame. 
I  can't  tell  you  how  it  was,  my  dear  reader,  but 
somehow  or  other,  in  less  time  than  I  have  been 


216  THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

writing  these  lines,  Hazlehurst  was  by  the  side  of 
Clara,  his  left  arm  encircling  her  slender  waist,  their 
right  hands  clinging  together,  and  her  sweet  head 
gently  drooped  upon  his  shoulder.  It  was  a  charm 
ing  group,  I  do  assure  you.  There  are  many  more 
disagreeable  situations  in  the  world  than  that  of 
young  Hazlehurst  at  that  moment.  It  was  a  grand 
pantomime  of  action.  No  words  could  have  ex 
pressed  their  meaning  more  eloquently.  It  was  not 
a  time  for  words :  they  would  have  been  imperti 
nent  and  superfluous.  Accordingly,  their  lips  gave 
utterance  to  no  sound.  Whether  their  lips  did  any 
thing  else  to  the  purpose,  it  is  not  my  intention  to 
disclose.  I  am  "trusty  Mr.  Tattle"  as  to  all  mat 
ters  which  should  be  kept  private.  Nothing  of 
that  sort  was  ever  wormed  out  of  me.  The  ladies 
need  have  no  hesitation  in  placing  the  most  entire 
confidence  in  my  discretion. 

But  this  silence,  though  deep  and  delicious,  could 
not  last  forever.  Alas  that  it  could  not !  Murmur 
ing  words  soon  displaced  it,  and  the  faith  of  two 
true  young  hearts  was  plighted  to  each  other  forever. 
Ah,  holy  troth  plight !  Thine  is  the  true  marriage, 
the  era  of  the  mystic  union  of  souls,  of  which  the 
blessing  of  the  priest  is  but  the  statement  and  proc 
lamation.  Woe  to  those  who  profane  its  mysteries 
by  levity,  by  covetousness,  or  by  falsehood ! 

As  soon  as  their  young  joy  had  subsided  into  a 
sort  of  tumultuous  calmness,  how  they  sat,  with  their 
hands  locked  together,  talking  over  their  love  and 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  217 

their  hopes !  They  traced  with  fond  curiosity  the 
course  of  their  true  love — "Great  Nature's  Nile"  — 
up  to  its  small  beginnings  and  unsuspected  springs. 
Bruce  himself  could  hardly  have  surpassed  them  in 
zealous  or  minute  investigation.  And  then  the  more 
dubious  future — how  were  its  uncertainties  turned 
into  realities,  and  its  doubts  transmuted  into  sanguine 
hopes,  by  the  potent  magic  of  youth  and  love ! 

"  Ah,  love,  young  love  !  bound  in  thy  rosy  band, 
Let  sage  or  cynic  prattle  as  he  will, 
These  hours,  and  only  these,  redeem  life's  years  of  ill." 

Clara's  doubts  as  to  her  reception  into  the  family 
of  her  lover  were  eagerly  driven  away  by  his  earnest 
assurances  of  a  cordial  welcome.  Sir  Ralph  and  his 
mother  were  the  best  of  human  beings,  and  had  no 
earthly  wish  beyond  his  happiness ;  and  was  not  his 
happiness  wrapped  up  in  her  ?  Such  is  the  logic 
of  youth  and  love,  and  it  easily  prevailed  over  one 
willing  enough  to  be  convinced.  The  best  of  human 
beings  sometimes  take  very  different  views  of  the 
component  elements  of  earthly  happiness  from  their 
children  :  at  least,  so  it  is  said.  They  were  too  happy 
to  fear.  The  future  would  take  care  of  itself.  The 
present  was  enough  for  them. 

But  such  interviews,  though  they  live  forever, 
must  come  to  an  end  in  time  and  space.  The  time 
came  when  the  plighted  lovers  were  to  part  for  the 
first  time  since  they  had  exchanged  their  sacred 
vows.  Dinner-time  will  come  round  on  the  day  of 
rejoicing  and  on  the  day  of  mourning,  and  interpose 


218  THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

its  material  demands  between  our  souls  and  soft 
emotions  of  tenderness  and  grief.  The  necessities 
of  the  body  often  afford  a  healthful  distraction  to 
thoughts  too  highly  strung  to  sensations  of  joy  or 
of  sorrow.  The  body  is  a  "homely  nurse;"  but  it  is 
a  faithful  one,  if  it  be  not  maltreated,  and  does  its 
best  to  guard  and  help  the  immortal  child  that  is 
intrusted  to  it  to  be  carried  in  its  arms  during  its 
days  of  infancy.  So  the  time  of  parting  came,  and 
they  parted ;  not  for  any  interminable  space  of  time, 
to  be  sure,  but  it  was  their  first  parting.  It  was 
not,  as  I  just  said,  an  eternal  separation,  for  there 
was  to  be  a  great  sleighing-party  that  evening,  and 
Hazlehurst  had  already  engaged  Clara  to  be  his 
companion.  With  as  many  last  words  as  if  they 
were  to  part  for  years,  he  at  length  departed,  with 
quite  unnecessary  entreaties  to  her  not  to  forget  the 
evening's  engagement. 

It  was  all  over.  The  irreparable  step  was  taken. 
The  Eubicon  of  life  was  passed.  The  hour  that  was 
just  expired  would  tinge  with  its  hues  every  future 
moment  of  his  life.  He  felt  that  it  was  no  light  thing 
that  he  had  just  done,  and,  though  he  was  conscious 
of  a  deep  happiness,  it  was  no  boisterous  joy,  and 
it  was  not  only  with  ease,  but  with  satisfaction, 
restrained  within  the  limits  of  his  own  breast,  until 
the  due  time  of  disclosure.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  feel 
that  he  had  a  secret  hoard  of  happiness,  known  only 
to  himself,  which  he  might  count  over  with  a  miser's 
joy,  but  with  none  of  a  miser's  guilt  or  folly. 


THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  219 

One  thing,  however,  was  remarkable.  The  idea 
of  the  orderly-book,  or  of  the  ghost,  had  never  once 
crossed  his  mind  after  he  had  found  himself  hurried 
on  to  the  catastrophe  of  the  interview.  He  was  sorry 
that  he  had  not  made  Clara  the  confidante  of  his 
troubles,  and  resolved  to  repair  the  omission  at  the 
first  opportunity.  Confidence  should  not  be  kept 
back  first  on  his  side.  He  rather  rejoiced  that  he 
had  a  misfortune  which  she  might  share  with  him. 
Perhaps  his  philosophy  would  not  have  stood  him 
in  such  good  stead,  had  his  misfortune  been  a  little 
greater  than  it  was.  But  everything  helps  to  feed 
a  healthy  love.  It  is  your  feeble,  rickety  brats, 
that  expire  of  the  first  unsavory  mess  of  earthly 
pottage. 

The  mess-dinner  was  over.  There  had  been  some 
quizzing  on  the  subject  of  Miss  Forrester  and  of  the 
ghost ;  but  it  was  all  evidently  at  random,  and  they 
had  no  idea  how  very  near  the  wind  they  were  going 
on  either  tack.  Hazlehurst  and  his  friends  kept  their 
own  counsel,  and  after  dinner  met  by  appointment 
at  Dr.  Holcombe's  quarters  to  finish  the  plan  of  their 
campaign  against  the  midnight  forager  of  orderly- 
books.  They  had,  as  they  had  agreed  upon,  selected 
a  number  of  picked  men,  on  whose  secrecy  and  fidel 
ity  they  could  rely,  who  were  to  keep  watch  and 
ward,  duly  relieved,  by  night  and  day,  without  mak 
ing  any  noise  about  it;  so  that  if  the  ghost  should 
return,  clothed  in  his  "  vesture  of  decay,"  to  the 
scene  of  his  former  operations,  he  would  be  pretty 


220  THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

sure  to  be  laid  by  the  heels.  The  officers  themselves 
also  agreed  to  mount  guard,  by  turns,  in  the  Captain's 
chamber,  so  that  it  should  never  be  without  a  sleep 
less  eye  on  the  lookout.  Arrangements  were  made 
that  the  sentinels  and  their  officers  should  rendezvous 
quietly  in  the  neighborhood,  at  a  small  inn,  as  if  by 
accident,  and  the  men  be  shown  their  posts  of  observa 
tion  without  any  bustle  to  attract  notice ;  John  and 
Orderly  Williams  being  left  in  garrison  of  the  haunted 
building  until  it  was  properly  invested.  Everything 
happened  at  the  time  and  in  the  order  that  it  should, 
and  the  arrangements  were  carried  into  effect  with 
military  precision.  One  man  walked  up  and  down 
the  street,  with  injunctions  never  to  lose  sight  of  the 
front  of  the  house.  The  three  other  sides  were  in 
charge  of  three  other  trusty  men,  so  placed  that  no 
approach  could  be  made  to  the  house  on  either  side 
without  instant  detection.  A  guard  was  also  placed 
on  each  floor  of  the  house  on  the  inside,  although 
it  had  been  most  thoroughly  searched,  in  advance} 
in  every  corner.  It  seemed  as  if  the  Prince  of  the 
Power  of  the  Air  alone,  approaching  through  his  own 
peculiar  principality,  could  obtain  entrance  unob 
served.  And  so  they  rested  on  their  arms. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  winter's  sun  made  haste  to 
put  an  end  to  the  short  day,  and  the  time  arrived  for 
the  great  sleigh  ing-party  to  rendezvous  in  the  North 
Square.  Captain  Hazlehurst's  graceful  little  sleigh, 
contrasting  curiously  with  his  stout  cob,  was  at  the 
door,  and  he  was  speedily  drawn  up  in  front  of  Mr. 


THE   HAUNTED  ADJUTANT.  221 

Forrester's  mansion,  awaiting  the  pleasure  of  its  fair 
mistress.  She  soon  appeared,  breathing  a  fresh  sum 
mer  upon  the  cheek  of  winter,  and  yet  looking  like 
his  youngest  daughter,  so  befurred  and  betippeted, 
and  becloaked  was  she.  Still,  through  all,  you  could 
see  the  graceful  outline  of  her  shape,  while  her  happy 
face  glowed  through  her  world  of  habiliments,  like 
the  sun  through  evening  clouds.  The  moon  would 
perhaps  be  a  more  appropriate,  but  the  sun  is  a  more 
splendid,  simile  :  so  let  it  stand.  She  was  soon  by  the 
side  of  Hazlehurst,  and  they  were  rapidly  careering 
away  toward  the  North  Square.  A  very  few  min 
utes  brought  them  to  the  rendezvous,  where  they  found 
a  large  company  of  the  6lite  of  the  garrison  and  the 
townspeople,  preparing  for  a  merry  scamper  round 
the  town.  There  were  large  sleighs  drawn  by  two, 
and  some  by  four,  horses,  containing  parties,  which 
like  the  family  party  of  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield,  if 
they  did  not  have  a  great  deal  of  wit,  they  had  a  great 
deal  of  laughing,  which  answered  the  purpose  just  as 
well.  There  were  not  wanting  modest  single  sleighs, 
like  that  conveying  our  hero  and  heroine,  which,  if 
not  as  well  adapted  for  frolic  as  their  larger  com 
panions,  were  better  calculated  for  sentiment  and  for 
flirtation.  After  the  usual  time  had  been  wasted  in 
waiting  for  loiterers,  and  adjusting  where  everyone 
should  go,  the  procession  set  forward  in  due  order; 
the  quadrigce  taking  the  lead,  and  the  more  unpre 
tending  vehicles  following  in  due  succession. 

Aha !  what  a  merry  jingling  of  bells,  and  ringing  of 


222  THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

laughter,  resounded  through  the  streets  of  Boston  as 
the  horses  dashed  through  them,  making  the  frozen 
earth  resound  with  their  tread !  It  was  a  sound  of 
merriment  that  jarred  gratingly  upon  the  ears  of 
many  an  unwilling  listener,  separated  by  the  siege 
from  beloved  hearts,  and  suffering,  perhaps,  from  cold 
in  the  depth  of  that  dreadful  winter,  or  with  hunger, 
within  the  sound  of  the  revelry  of  their  oppressors. 
To  many  an  ear  the  sweet  bells  seemed  "jangled,  out 
of  tune,  and  harsh."  But  what  was  that  to  the  revel 
lers  ?  "What  cared  they  for  the  pining  of  rebel  hearts  ? 
Away,  away !  Up  Hanover  Street,  down  Queen 
Street,  through  the  succession  of  streets  now  all  amal 
gamated  into  Washington  Street,  up  to  the  lines  on  the 
Neck  !  How  the  crackling  snow  glitters  in  the  light 
of  the  full  moon  !  What  a  volcanic  effect  do  the  rebel 
watchfires  give  to  the  lovely  hills  in  the  distance ! 
You  can  hear  the  very  hum  of  the  camp,  so  near  are 
you  to  it ;  and  you  have  the  pleasing  uncertainty  as 
to  how  soon  a  battery  of  cannon  may  open  upon  you, 
or  a  shell  be  sent  to  convey  to  you  the  compliments 
of  those  who  are  knocking  at  your  gates.  But  what 
of  that  ?  Away,  away !  Back  again  to  the  Com 
mon,  round  it,  and  then  dash  down  to  the  line  of 
wharves  that  enclose  the  harbor,  look  out  over  the 
frozen  sea,  and  then  round  again  across  those  desolate 
fields  which  are  now  all  populous  streets  or  crowded 
marts.  Oh,  it  was  a  merry  drive  !  What  though 
the  hardships  of  a  seven-years'  war,  ghastly  wounds, 
and  grizzly  death,  awaited  some  of  the  revellers,  and 


THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  223 

the  bitterness  of  disappointed  hope  and  of  intermi 
nable  exile  was  the  appointed  lot  of  others  ?  They 
knew  it  not.  That  glittering  night  was  theirs  —  and 
who  has  more  ? 

There  are  worse  places  for  a  flirtation  or  a  tete-a- 
tete,  let  me  tell  you,  than  a  sleighing-party,  especially 
where  you  have  a  sleigh  to  yourselves,  the  noise  and 
the  bustle  isolates  you  so  completely.  And  then 
the  bear-skins  roll  you  up  together  so  comically, 
that  positively  you  sometimes  mistake  your  neigh 
bor's  hand  for  your  own.  It 's  very  odd,  but  so  it  is. 
Poets  may  talk  as  much  as  they  please  about  summer 
moons;  but  I  have  known  quite  as  much  mischief 
done  under  winter  moons.  And,  if  I  had  a  daughter, 
I  would  quite  as  soon  trust  her  with  a  "detrimental" 
in  a  summer  grove,  beside  a  murmuring  stream,  with 
the  very  best  moon  that  was  ever  manufactured  hang 
ing  over  their  heads,  as  I  would  in  a  snug  sleigh, 
behind  a  good  horse,  making  good  time  over  a  ring 
ing  road,  in  a  cold,  clear,  sparkling  night. 

"Now,  ponder  well,  ye  parents  dear," 
and  lay  these,  my  words  of  wisdom,  to  heart. 

Clara  and  Hazlehurst,  you  may  be  sure,  did  not  fail 
to  improve  their  opportunities ;  and  the  evening's 
drive  furnished  a  very  satisfactory  epilogue  to  the 
morning's  drama.  After  a  brief  interval  of  silence,  as 
they  rushed  up  King  Street,  Clara  turned  to  Hazle 
hurst,  and  said  laughingly  to  him,  — 

"But,  Charles,  you  have  not  told  me  yet  what 
Captain  Honeywood  had  to  say  to  you ;  for,  of  course, 


224      .  THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

he  must  have  been  to  call  on  his  tenant  by  this 
time." 

"Ah,  my  dear  Clara,  I  am  satisfied  that  he  was 
a  piratical  old  dog.  I  have  but  too  good  reason  to 
think  ill  of  him." 

"  Indeed !  And  how  so,  pray  ?  Has  he  laid  you 
under  contribution  already  ?  Perhaps  he  intends  col 
lecting  his  rent  in  advance." 

"  If  that  were  all,"  answered  Charles,  "  I  should 
care  little  about  it.  But  I  am  afraid  that  the  old  vil 
lain  is  more  of  a  rebel  than  a  pirate.  I  fear  he  bears 
more  of  a  grudge  against  the  King  than  against  me." 

"That  is  natural  enough,  you  know,"  replied  Clara, 
"for  it  was  his  Majesty's  predecessor  who  put  him 
to  so  much  inconvenience  for  his  little  mistakes  in 
the  matter  of  ownership.  But  you  mean  something, 
Charles  —  now  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  The  all  is  soon  told,"  said  he.  "  The  crafty  old 
sea-dog  has  helped  himself  to  the  very  thing  that  it  is 
most  important,  for  the  sake  of  the  service  and  for 
my  own  sake,  should  have  been  kept  out  of  his  hands 
—  and  I  suppose  I  may  have  to  pay  for  his  villany." 

"  Good  God,  Charles  ! "  exclaimed  Clara,  turning 
pale  with  affright.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  What  has 
happened  ? " 

"  Nothing,  my  love,"  he  responded, "  excepting  that 
he  has  carried  off  the  orderly-book  of  the  regiment, 
which  may  convey  intelligence  to  the  rebels  that  will 
bring  them  buzzing  about  our  ears,  if  they  have  the 
sense  to  make  use  of  it." 


THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT.  225 

"But  you  —  how  will  it  affect  you?"  inquired 
Clara,  evidently  thinking  more  of  her  lover  than  of 
her  liege  lord.  "  You  said  that  it  was  bad  for  your 
own  sake  that  this  book  had  fallen  into  his  hands." 

"  Indeed  I  hardly  know  myself  exactly,"  he  an 
swered  ;  "  but  I  am  quite  certain  that  it  can  do  me 
no  good.  And  what  a  court-martial  may  think  of  it, 
they  only  can  tell." 

"  A  court-martial ! "  exclaimed  Clara  in  consterna 
tion.  "  Dear  Charles,  what  have  you  done  for  which 
you  can  be  court-martialed  ?  Pray  tell  me  that  you 
are  only  in  jest." 

"  I  wish  I  were  in  jest,  my  dearest  Clara,"  said  he 
in  reply ;  "  but  it  is  no  joke,  I  assure  you.  The  order 
ly-book  was  in  my  custody,  as  the  adjutant  of  the 
regiment.  I  left  it  on  my  table  when  I  went  to  the 
assembly  last  night,  and  when  I  came  back  it  was 
gone." 

"  Gone  ! "  repeated  Clara,  echoing  his  words. 

"  Gone,  my  dear,"  he  repeated.  "  And  how  or 
whither,  the  thief,  and  the  devil  that  helped  him, 
only  knows.  And  when  the  loss  is  reported  at  head 
quarters,  I  have  reason  to  fear  that  I  shall  be  held 
responsible  for  it,  and  it  may  prove  a  serious  busi 
ness." 

"  But  what  can  they  do  to  you,  dearest  Charles  ?  " 
almost  gasped  poor  Clara.  "  It  certainly  was  not 
your  fault  that  it  was  taken." 

"  I  cannot  think  it  was,"  he  answered,  "  after  all 
the  precautions  I  had  taken.  But  one  cannot  tell 
15 


228  THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

the  Royal  Tavern.  The  scene  was  not  a  very  magni 
ficent  one,  to  be  sure ;  but  the  company  was  as  gay 
as  if  it  had  been  a  royal  palace.  The  mulled  wine 
was  beyond  praise.  The  floor  of  the  large  parlor  was 
swept,  and  a  noble  fire  diffused  light  and  heat  through 
the  room.  They  had  not  a  regimental  band,  as  they 
had  the  night  before ;  but  the  fiddle  of  a  musical  negro 
belonging  to  the  house  was  sufficient  to  set  them  all 
dancing  and  flirting.  And  what  could  his  Majesty's 
own  band  itself  do  more  ?  At  a  proper  time  an 
excellent  supper  was  served  in  the  dining-room, — 
none  of  your  perpendicular  abominations,  but  a  good, 
regular,  sit-down  supper,  all  hot  from  the  spit,  and 
served,  if  not  with  metropolitan  magnificence,  yet  at 
least  with  provincial  plenty.  Ample  justice  was  done 
to  the  viands ;  and  the  port  wine  and  the  everlasting 
punch  were  not  neglected.  After  the  sacred  rage  of 
hunger  was  appeased,  the  company  returned  to  the 
great  parlor,  and  resumed  their  gayeties,  which  were 
protracted  until  a  late  hour.  Such  were  some  of  the 
schemes  to  which  the  beleaguered  inhabitants  of  the 
town  resorted  to  speed  away  some  of  their  weary 
hours.  And  very  good  schemes,  they  were,  in  my 
opinion. 

I  do  not  know  how  it  was,  but  the  garrison  gossips, 
of  whom  Hazlehurst  had  warned  Clara,  remarked  that 
he  was  not  as  devoted  to  her  as  usual.  From  this 
they  augured,  with  the  sagacity  of  their  tribe,  that 
lie  was  inclined  to  be  off  from  the  flirtation.  Now 
/  formed  a  directly  opposite  opinion  from  the  circum- 


THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  229 

stance.  I  am  too  old  a  bird  to  be  chaffed  in  that  way. 
I  know,  however,  that  the  young  lovers  compared 
notes  of  what  they  heard  and  overheard  on  the  sub 
ject,  as  they  drove  home,  and  that  they  were  entirely 
satisfied  with  the  success  of  the  evening.  What 
could  have  made  them  dissatisfied  with  it? 

On  arriving  at  his  quarters,  Hazlelmrst  found  every 
thing  ready,  but  no  ghost  as  yet.  Dr.  Holcombe, 
who  much  preferred  a  comfortable  arm-chair,  a  pipe, 
and  a  tankard  of  punch,  over  against  a  rousing  fire, 
to  all  the  sleighing-parties  that  ever  manufactured 
pleasure  out  of  cold  and  discomfort,  had  volunteered 
to  mount  guard  for  the  first  evening  in  Hazlehurst's 
room.  He  protested,  however,  that  all  had  been 
quiet,  and  not  so  much  of  a  ghost  stirring  as  would 
make  the  candles  burn  blue.  He  and  Hazlelmrst  sat 
up  till  near  morning,  and  then  lay  down  alternately 
for  an  hour  or  two  —  but  all  was- still.  "Not  a  mouse 
stirring."  They  had  their  labor  for  their  pains  that 
night.  Still  they  were  not  discouraged  in  their  cam 
paign  against  the  powers  of  darkness  by  this  with 
drawal  of  the  enemy.  They  still  believed  that  they 
would  have  a  brush  with  him  yet.  In  this  faith  they 
renewed  their  arrangements  for  the  next  day,  care 
fully  managing  them  so  cautiously  that  there  should 
be  no  ground  of  suspicion  given  to  the  world  around 
that  there  was  anything  extraordinary  going  on. 

The  allies  met  after  breakfast  to  talk  over  the 
matter,  and  to  decide  whose  turn  should  be  the  next 
to  face  the  enemy.  Major  Ferguson,  in  right  of  sen- 


230  THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

iority  of  rank,  received  the  privilege.  The  men  who 
were  on  guard  during  the  night  were  examined ;  but 
they  maintained  that  there  was  nothing  that  could  be 
construed  into  a  suspicious  circumstance  that  had 
fallen  under  their  observation.  Renewed  charges  of 
secrecy  were  given  and  exchanged,  not  only  for  fear 
of  the  ghost's  getting  wind  of  the  conspiracy  against 
him,  but  lest  the  laugh  at  the  mess-table  might  be 
turned  against  them.  Lord  Percy  was  curious  to 
hear  the  result  of  the  night's  campaign,  when  the 
adjutant  waited  upon  him  for  orders,  and  gave  his 
approval  of  the  steps  taken,  and  encouraged  them  to 
proceed. 

Another  day,  and  yet  another,  passed  away.  Fer 
guson  and  Lyndsay  had  successively  taken  the  field 
against  the  ghost ;  but  none  would  come  when  they 
did  call  for  him.  Old  Jamaica  was  the  only  spirit 
that  was  raised,  and  tobacco-smoke  was  the  only  in 
tangible  essence  that  infested  them.  What  was  to  be 
done  now  ?  It  was  plain  that  the  ghost  was  more 
than  a  match  for  them.  They  believed  that  they 
might  be  his  masters  in  the  field ;  but  he  certainly 
had  the  advantage  of  them  in  the  strategy  which 
avoids  the  presence  of  a  superior  enemy.  They  felt, 
in  the  slightest  degree  in  the  world,  like  fools,  that 
they  should  have  lost  their  natural  rest  for  three 
nights,  and  expended  a  degree  of  skill  and  energy 
sufficient  to  have  raised  the  siege,  and  all  for  nothing. 
Friday  night  was  come.  The  morrow  was  the  fatal 
Saturday,  when  the  orderly-book  must  be  found,  or 


THE   HAUNTED  ADJUTANT.  231 

the  loss  reported  at  headquarters.  The  confederates 
sat  rather  gloomily  over  their  wine  at  Ferguson's 
lodgings,  —  for  Ferguson  was  a  married  man,  and  did 
not  live  at  mess,  —  and  considered  with  themselves 
what  was  to  be  done  next. 

"You  have  not  won  your  supper  at  the  Dragon 
yet,  Doctor,"  said  Ferguson.  "  The  ghost  does  not 
seem  to  regard  you  with  any  more  favor  than  the  rest 
of  us." 

"  The  Ides  of  March  are  not  past  yet,  my  friend," 
observed  the  Doctor.  "  I  shall  have  a  double  chance, 
as  I  shall  keep  watch  the  last  night  of  the  siege,  as 
well  as  the  first.  You  cannot  tell  what  this  night 
may  bring  forth." 

"  So  you  are  not  discouraged,  I  am  glad  to  find," 
said  Hazlehurst,  "  and  still  hold  to  your  intention  for 
the  night.  But  don't  you  intend  to  go  to  Miss  For 
rester's  this  evening  ?  I  know  you  are  invited,  and 
your  watch  can  begin  after  the  party  ends." 

"Not  I,  indeed,"  responded  the  son  of  Galen, — 
"  not  I,  indeed  !  I  am  not  quite  boy  enough  for  that. 
It  is  all  well  enough  for  you  youngsters,  who  have 
no  turn  for  rational  pursuits ;  but  a  pipe  and  a  tank 
ard  for  me,  against  all  the  gatherings  together  of  flirt 
ing  boys  and  girls,  and  gambling  papas  and  mammas, 
that  were  ever  held.  I  shall  repair  to  my  post  early 
in  the  evening,  and  maintain  it  unseduced  and  un- 
terriiied." 

"  And  faith !  I  believe  that  I  will  bear  you  com 
pany,  Doctor,"  said  Ferguson.  "My  wife  has  not 


230  THE   HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

iority  of  rank,  received  the  privilege.  The  men  who 
were  on  guard  during  the  night  were  examined ;  but 
they  maintained  that  there  was  nothing  that  could  be 
construed  into  a  suspicious  circumstance  that  had 
fallen  under  their  observation.  Renewed  charges  of 
secrecy  were  given  and  exchanged,  not  only  for  fear 
of  the  ghost's  getting  wind  of  the  conspiracy  against 
him,  but  lest  the  laugh  at  the  mess-table  might  be 
turned  against  them.  Lord  Percy  was  curious  to 
hear  the  result  of  the  night's  campaign,  when  the 
adjutant  waited  upon  him  for  orders,  and  gave  his 
approval  of  the  steps  taken,  and  encouraged  them  to 
proceed. 

Another  day,  and  yet  another,  passed  away.  Fer 
guson  and  Lyndsay  had  successively  taken  the  field 
against  the  ghost ;  but  none  would  come  when  they 
did  call  for  him.  Old  Jamaica  W7as  the  only  spirit 
that  was  raised,  and  tobacco-smoke  was  the  only  in 
tangible  essence  that  infested  them.  "What  was  to  be 
done  now  ?  It  was  plain  that  the  ghost  was  more 
than  a  match  for  them.  They  believed  that  they 
might  be  his  masters  in  the  field  ;  but  he  certainly 
had  the  advantage  of  them  in  the  strategy  which 
avoids  the  presence  of  a  superior  enemy.  They  felt, 
in  the  slightest  degree  in  the  world,  like  fools,  that 
they  should  have  lost  their  natural  rest  for  three 
nights,  and  expended  a  degree  of  skill  and  energy 
sufficient  to  have  raised  the  siege,  and  all  for  nothing. 
Friday  night  was  come.  The  morrow  was  the  fatal 
Saturday,  when  the  orderly-book  must  be  found,  or 


THE   HAUNTED  ADJUTANT.  231 

the  loss  reported  at  headquarters.  The  confederates 
sat  rather  gloomily  over  their  wine  at  Ferguson's 
lodgings,  —  for  Ferguson  was  a  married  man,  and  did 
not  live  at  mess,  —  and  considered  with  themselves 
what  was  to  be  done  next. 

"You  have  not  won  your  supper  at  the  Dragon 
yet,  Doctor,"  said  Ferguson.  "  The  ghost  does  not 
seem  to  regard  you  with  any  more  favor  than  the  rest 
of  us." 

"  The  Ides  of  March  are  not  past  yet,  my  friend," 
observed  the  Doctor.  "  I  shall  have  a  double  chance, 
as  T  shall  keep  watch  the  last  night  of  the  siege,  as 
well  as  the  first.  You  cannot  tell  what  this  night 
may  bring  forth." 

"  So  you  are  not  discouraged,  I  am  glad  to  find," 
said  Hazlehurst,  "  and  still  hold  to  your  intention  for 
the  night.  But  don't  you  intend  to  go  to  Miss  For 
rester's  this  evening  ?  I  know  you  are  invited,  and 
your  watch  can  begin  after  the  party  ends." 

"  Not  I,  indeed,"  responded  the  son  of  Galen,  — 
"  not  I,  indeed  !  I  am  not  quite  boy  enough  for  that. 
It  is  all  well  enough  for  you  youngsters,  who  have 
no  turn  for  rational  pursuits  ;  but  a  pipe  and  a  tank 
ard  for  me,  against  all  the  gatherings  together  of  flirt 
ing  boys  and  girls,  and  gambling  papas  and  mammas, 
that  were  ever  held.  I  shall  repair  to  my  post  early 
in  the  evening,  and  maintain  it  unseduced  and  un- 
terrified." 

"  And  faith !  I  believe  that  I  will  bear  you  com 
pany,  Doctor,"  said  Ferguson.  "My  wife  has  not 


232  THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

got  over  the  cold  she  got  at  that  cursed  sleighing- 
party,  and  intends  going  to  bed,  instead  of  the  party." 

"  Do  so,  by  all  means,"  replied  Holcombe,  "  and  I 
dare  say,  that,  besides  having  a  rational  time  together, 
we  shall  have  a  good  account  to  give  of  the  ghost 
by  the  time  these  boys  are  ready  to  come  home. 
Only,  I  suppose,  if  we  see  the  ghost  both  at  the  same 
time,  you  will  expect  to  go  snacks  in  the  supper  ?  " 

"To  be  sure,  I  shall,"  said  the  Major,  laughing. 
"We  will  be  partners  in  the  battle  and  in  the 
spoils." 

The  party  soon  after  dispersed,  and  went  their 
several  ways;  and  it  will  not  surprise  my  readers 
to  learn  that  Hazlehurst's  way  led  him  to  Clara  For 
rester's.  He  just  looked  in  to  see  if  he  could  be  of 
any  service.  He  found  the  fair  Clara  in  some  little 
perturbation. 

"  What  goes  wrong,  my  love  ? "  he  inquired. 
"Has  the  Governor  sent  an  excuse,  or  has  la  belle 
Wilton  turned  sulky,  and  refused  to  come  ?  " 

"  Worse  than  either,  I  assure  you,  Charles,"  she 
replied.  "  I  could  spare  a  dozen  governors  and  beau 
ties  better  than  black  Domingo,  who  has  selected 
this  particular  occasion  to  fall  sick,  and  to  throw  me 
back  on  the  mercies  of  .James,  who  is  hardly  equal, 
as  you  know,  to  such  an  emergency." 

"  That  is  unlucky,  indeed,"  said  Hazlehurst.  "  But 
my  John  is  quite  at  your  service,  such  as  he  is  ;  and 
he  is  certainly  competent  to  the  ministerial,  if  not  to 
the  legislative,  duties  of  such  an  occasion." 


THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT.  233 

"  Thank  you  ! "  she  answered.  "  He  will  be  of  great 
use,  and  I  gladly  accept  your  offer.  But  what  will 
the  Doctor  and  Major  Ferguson  do,  without  him  to 
attend  them,  since  you  say  that  they  are  determined 
not  to  smile  upon  me  ? " 

"  Oh,  never  fear  for  them ! "  replied  Hazlehurst. 
"John  shall  brew  them  a  double  supply  of  punch, 
and  leave  their  supper  ready  laid  for  them,  and  they 
can  wait  upon  themselves  fast  enough :  they  are  too 
old  campaigners  to  be  disconcerted  by  a  trifle." 

"  They  shall  be  better  treated  than  they  deserve, 
then,  for  not  coining  to  me,"  said  she ;  "  for  I  will 
send  poor  old  Peter  over  to  them  with  their  supper, 
and  with  a  bowl  of  the  punch  I  have  been  super 
intending  myself  for  the  evening.  So  you  will  be 
good  enough  to  let  me  have  John  as  soon  as  you  can 
spare  him." 

"He  shall  be  at  your  command  directly,"  he  re 
plied,  —  "  as  soon  as  he  can  put  himself  in  proper  trim. 
Peter  will  answer  all  the  purpose  for  the  Doctor  and 
Ferguson." 

After  a  few  more  passages  between  the  lovers, 
which  I  do  not  think  particularly  concern  my  read 
ers,  Hazlehurst  took  his  leave  of  his  ladye-love,  and 
proceeded  to  his  quarters.  I  beg  that  no  unkind 
imputations  may  be  laid  upon  my  Clara  in  conse 
quence  of  her  holding  this  festivity  on  the  eve  of  the 
important  Saturday;  for  the  arrangements  had  been 
made  for  it  before  she  knew  anything  of  Hazlehurst's 
troubles.  And  as  they  were  still  a  secret,  and  as  she 


234  THE   HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

had  as  yet  no  acknowledged  interest  in  them,  if  they 
were  public,  there  was  obviously  nothing  to  be  done 
but  to  go  on.  But  the  dear  girl  had  suffered  great 
distress  and  anxiety  about  it,  especially  as  the  week 
drew  to  an  end  without  any  tidings  of  the  missing 
volume.  But  she  had  to  put  a  good  face  upon  the 
matter,  and  go  through  her  hospitable  duties  with  the 
best  grace  she  could. 

In  those  days  the  hour  for  the  assembling  of  com 
pany  was  a  very  different  one  from  that  which  now 
brings  a  party  together.  Before  seven  o'clock  the 
rooms  were  filled.  I  cannot  stop  now  to  describe 
(though  description  is  my  forte)  the  beauty  and 
splendor  of  the  scene.  We  have  nothing  in  these 
days,  excepting  the  awkward  imitation  of  a  fancy 
ball,  that  approaches  the  glories  of  the  days  of  bro 
cades  and  scarlet  coats,  of  gold  lace  and  gold  buttons, 
of  diamond  buckles,  and  steel-hilted  rapiers  that 
looked  like  diamonds,  of  powder,  and  high-heeled 
shoes.  Ah!  those  were  the  good  times,  when  you 
knew  a  gentleman  by  his  coat,  and  were  not  obliged 
to  cipher  him  out  by  his  conduct  or  his  conversation. 

The  company  were  received  by  Mr.  and  Miss 
Forrester,  with  all  the  ceremony  of  the  old  time. 
I  have  not  introduced  Mr.  Forrester  to  the  reader 
as  yet,  simply  for  the  want  of  time.  As  he  made  no 
objection  to  Hazlehurst's  proposals,  when  they  were 
laid  before  him,  only  declining  to  ratify  the  engage 
ment  formally  until  the  consent  of  Sir  Ralph  had 
been  received,  and  as  I,  therefore,  could  make  no  use 


THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT.  235 

of  him  in  the  only  way  fathers  can  be  successfully 
managed,  —  as  cruel  tyrants  trampling  on  the  young 
affections  of  their  daughters,  —  I  have  had  no  occas 
ion  to  mention  him.  He  would  have  been  well 
worth  your  knowledge,  however,  as  a  favorable  speci 
men  of  the  old  pre-revolutionary  New  England  gen 
tleman.  But  I  have  no  time  left  for  you  to  cultivate 
his  acquaintance.  The  fact  is  I  want  three  volumes 
to  make  use  of  my  materials.  Maga  is  very  good ; 
but,  like  Chanticleer  in  the  fable,  "  she  is  not 
enough."  All  that  was  eminent  in  rank  or  station 
(civil  or  military),  all  that  was  brilliant  in  beauty,  and 
attractive  in  manners,  that  the  besieged  town  could 
command,  was  gathered  together  on  that  gay  evening. 
Youth  and  folly,  old  age  and  cards,  were  in  happy 
proximity.  And  whatever  there  might  be  of  love 
about  the  former  conjunction,  there  was  certainly 
nothing  of  it  in  the  latter.  Mrs.  Battle  herself  never 
despised  playing  cards  for  love  more  heartily  than  the 
former  generation  of  Boston  dowagers.  Gaming  was 
in  those  days  almost  as  much  a  necessity  of  life  as 
drinking.  At  the  proper  time,  when  supper  was 
announced,  his  Excellency  led  the  procession,  bearing 
aloft  the  fair  hand  of  his  lovely  hostess,  and  not  tuck 
ing  it  under  his  arm  like  a  walking-stick  or  a  wet 
umbrella.  The  tables  were  loaded  with  the  choicest 
viands  and  the  rarest  wines,  "  and  all  went  merry  as 
a  marriage-bell." 

While  these  festive  proceedings  were  going  on  in 
the  next  house,  Dr.  Holcornbe  and  Major  Ferguson 


236  THE  HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

were  whiling  away  the  hours  as  best  they  might, 
in  such  talk  as  the  garrison  and  the  iness  afforded. 
The  punch-tankard  stood  between  them  upon  a  little 
table,  and  filled  up  many  pauses  in  their  conversa 
tion.  As  they  lazily  puffed  out  the  smoke  from  their 
mouths,  they  thought  with  satisfaction  of  the  wisdom 
of  their  choice.  The  distant  hum  of  the  party,  and 
the  music,  only  enhanced  their  solitary  satisfaction. 
At  length,  a  tap  was  heard  at  the  door,  which,  open 
ing,  admitted  the  sable  form  of  poor  Peter,  to  whom 
we  introduced  our  reader  in  the  second  chapter.  He 
entered  the  room  with  a  dogged  and  almost  an  un 
conscious  air  of  stupidity,  bearing  a  basket  in  either 
hand,  from  one  of  which  he  produced  some  elegant 
extracts  from  the  great  supper,  and  from  the  other  a 
fresh  flagon  of  the  most  delicious  punch  that  they 
had  ever  dreamed  of,  and,  besides,  two  bottles  of  the 
celebrated  old  Forrester  Madeira,  which  had  "  put  a 
girdle  round  the  earth  "  in  its  travels,  and  knew  more 
years  than  I  dare  mention. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  that  as  soon  as  Peter 
had  disposed  of  these  edibles  and  potables  upon  the 
table,  and  retired,  the  friends  drew  up  to  it,  and 
commenced  an  assault  upon  its  contents  which  did 
infinite  honor  to  their  military  education.  The  flagon 
was  in  constant  requisition,  and  was  pronounced  nec 
tar  worthy  of  the  Hebe  who  had  dispensed  it.  Then, 
after  their  supper  was  finished,  they  uncorked  the 
wine,  and,  drawing  up  to  the  fire,  set  in  for  serious 
drinking.  They  were  seasoned  vessels;  but  I  am 


THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  237 

sorry  to  say,  that  in  due  time  the  liquor  began  to 
make  inroads  upon  their  brains,  and  to  set  their 
tongues  in  perpetual  motion.  They  told  excellent 
stories,  only  forgetting  the  point ;  but  this,  as  they 
both  talked  at  once,  was  of  the  less  consequence. 
The  Doctor  grew  professional,  and  the  Major  musical. 
The  one  described  operations,  and  the  other  broke 
down  in  the  midst  of  songs,  all  of  which  he  sung  to 
the  tune  of  "  Water  parted  from  the  Sea."  Their  eyes 
began  to  glaze,  and  their  tongues  to  trip.  They  were 
not  at  all  surprised  at  seeing  duplicates  of  all  the 
objects  in  the  room,  nor  at  finding  themselves  stopping 
short  in  the  midst  of  stammering  sentences.  In  short, 
I  grieve  to  relate  it,  they  were  getting  very  drunk. 

"  I  say,  Doctor,"  stammered  the  Major,  "  won't  you 
take  another  glass  —  of —  ghost  ? " 

"  D — n  the  —  ghost !  "  hiccoughed  the  Doctor.  "  I 
do  be-believe,  Ferguson,  you  're  dr-drunk  !  I  should 
like  to  see  the  gh-ghost  that  would  face  me  n-now." 

"  Suppose  —  you  —  see,  Doctor  —  whether  the 
door 's  —  drunk  ! "  said  the  Major.  "  It  looks  d — d 
tottering  to  me." 

The  Doctor  laid  his  course  for  the  door,  and,  after  a 
few  judicious  tacks,  succeeded  in  making  it.  It  was 
slightly  ajar :  so  he  shut  and  locked  it,  apostrophiz 
ing  the  ghost  as  he  meandered  back  to  his  chair. 

"  D — n  you  !  You  '11  have  to  c-come  through  the 
k-keyhole,  to-night,  m-my  friend  —  if  you  c-come  at 
all." 

Having  with  great  generalship  recovered  his  seat, 


238  THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

they  attempted  to  resume  their  "  rational  enjoyment " 
and  improving  conversation.  But  nature  was  too 
strong  for  them,  and  it  was  not  many  minutes  before 
they  were  both  fast  asleep  in  their  chairs.  I  am  sorry 
to  say  that  such  scenes  were  not  so  rare,  or  so  dis 
creditable,  in  those  three-bottle  days,  as  they  have 
happily  since  become  ;  and  the  sight  of  two  middle- 
aged  gentlemen  drunk  on  either  side  of  a  fireplace 
would  have  been  no  astonishing  sight  seventy  years 
ago. 

How  long  it  was  after  this  point  of  their  adven 
tures,  I  cannot  exactly  tell,  but  it  was  not  long, 
before  the  men  who  were  keeping  guard  were  alarmed 
by  a  loud  and  most  startling  noise  in  the  haunted 
chamber.  They  all  incontinently  rushed  to  the  door, 
and  heard  within  the  sounds  of  a  clamorous  struggle. 
The  ghost  was  evidently  caught  at  last.  But  it  was 
also  plain  that  he  was  fighting  for  his  life.  He  was 
game  to  the  last,  clearly.  He  was  apparently  almost 
a  match  for  his  two  adversaries ;  for  loud  cries  re 
sounded  through  the  house. 

"  Here  he  is,  d— n  him  ! "  "I 've  got  him !"  " By 

,  he 's  choking  me  ! "  "  Murder,  murder  ! " 

"Help,  help!"  "Where  are  you,  you  scoundrels?" 
All  attended  by  a  running  accompaniment  of  furni 
ture-breaking  and  chairs  tumbling  into  chaotic  heaps. 
The  men  tried  in  vain  to  open  the  door,  when 
Hazlehurst  rushed  up  stairs  in  hot  haste,  having 
been  summoned,  by  his  own  direction,  at  the  first 
alarm. 


THE   HAUNTED  ADJUTANT.  239 

"Where  are  your  muskets,  men?"  he  cried  in 
strong  excitement.  "  The  bloody  rebels  are  murdering 
them !  Dash  open  the  door  with  the  butt-ends  !  " 

Seizing  a  musket,  he  suited  the  action  to  the  word, 
and  the  door  was  soon  broken  down,  though  not 
without  difficulty,  as  doors  were  then.  The  scene 
was  frightful.  The  furniture  was  overturned ;  the 
lights  were  out ;  and  lying  on  the  floor,  either  mor 
tally  wounded,  or  exhausted  by  a  fruitless  struggle, 
lay  the  watchmen  of  the  night. 

"  Where  is  the  villain  ? "  cried  Hazlehurst,  rushing 
into  the  room. 

"  Here 's  the  d — d  scoundrel !  "  cried  the  Doctor, 
laying  hold  of  the  Major. 

"This  is  the  infernal  rascal !"  bellowed  the  Major, 
seizing  the  unhappy  Holcombe  by  the  throat. 

And,  as  they  shook  each  other,  they  vainly  endeav 
ored  to  rise  from  among  the  wreck  of  things  that 
surrounded  them. 

It  needed  no  conjuror  to  tell  how  the  matter  stood. 
Hazlehurst  sunk  into  a  chair,  which,  fortunately,  had 
survived  the  fray,  and  made  the  whole  house  ring 
with  interminable  peals  of  laughter.  His  followers 
could  not  resist  the  contagion,  which  was  made  the 
more  irresistible  by  the  drunken  gravity  of  the  two 
heroes,  who  sat  like  so  many  tipsy  Mariuses  amid 
the  ruins  of  another  Carthage.  You  would  have 
thought  that  a  legion  of  laughing  imps  had  taken 
possession  of  the  mansion,  and  were  consecrating  it 
to  their  service. 


240  THE   HAUNTED  ADJUTANT. 

As  soon  as  Hazlehurst  could  command  his  voice, 
he  gave  directions  to  the  men  to  separate  the  unlucky 
ghost-seers,  and  to  carry  them  carefully  to  bed.  Then, 
taking  a  candle,  he  surveyed  the  prospect  before  him. 
The  emptied  flagons  and  broken  bottles  sufficiently 
accounted  for  the  scene  he  had  just  witnessed.  He 
glanced  his  eye  upon  the  table.  His  color  changed. 
He  started  forward.  By  Heaven  !  THERE  LAY  THE 

ORDERLY-BOOK  ! 

Two  or  three  years  had  passed  away,  and  a  happy 
family  party  were  assembled  around  a  Christmas  fire 
at  Hazlewood,  the  seat  of  the  Hazlehursts.  Vigorous 
age  and  blooming  infancy  clustered  around  the  hearth  : 
in  the  centre  of  the  circle  were  Charles  Hazlehurst 
and  his  lovely  Clara.  He  had  consented,  reluctantly, 
to  retire  from  the  army,  that  he  might  sustain  the 
declining  years  of  his  parents.  He  had  brought  his 
wife  with  him,  and  there  they  sat,  as  happy  and 
beloved  a  pair  as  ever  lived  and  loved. 

The  evening  had  been  sped  away  with  games  and 
gambols.  At  last  the  sports  were  over,  and  the 
party,  closing  round  the  firebrands,  yielded  to  the 
inspiration  of  the  hour,  and  vied  with  each  other  in 
tales  of  diablerie.  At  last,  Charles  is  asked  to  narrate 
his  adventure.  He  told  it  well,  and  was  rewarded 
by  alternating  deep-drawn  breaths  of  interest  and  by 
peals  of  laughter.  But  the  mystery  still  remained 
unsolved.  While  they  were  all  offering  their  several 
explanations,  Hazlehurst  exclaimed,  — 


THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT.  241 

"  I  would  pay  down  a  handsome  reward  to  any 
one  who  would  tell  me  where  that  book  was  during 
those  four  days  ! " 

"  And  would  you  grant  an  amnesty,"  asked  Clara, 
"  to  all  concerned,  if  you  could  know  it  ?  " 

"  That  I  would,  with  all  my  heart ;  for  the  excel 
lence  of  the  joke,  now  that  no  mischief  came  of  it, 
redeems  its  roguishness." 

"  Then  I  can  easily  satisfy  you,  my  dear,"  resumed 
his  wife.  "  It  was  all  the  time  in  my  dressing-table 
drawer." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silent  astonishment,  and 
then  Hazlehurst  exclaimed,  — 

"In  your  drawer?  Why,  were  you  the  ghost, 
Clara  ? " 

"  Not  exactly,"  she  replied.  "  But  I  had  an  Afrite 
that  did  my  will  quite  as  well  as  any  ghost  could  do." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  my  love  ? "  inquired  her  hus 
band.  "  You  are  surely  jesting.  What  Afrite  do  you 
mean  ? " 

"  You  remember  poor  Peter  ?  " 

He  nodded  assent. 

"  Well,  he  was  the  ghost,  and  none  but  he.  I  never 
meant  to  tell  the  story ;  but  it  is  too  good  a  joke  to  be 
kept  to  one's  self." 

"  But  how  ?    What  had  you  to  do  with  it  ? " 

"  Remember  your  proclamation  of  amnesty,  and  I 
will  tell  you.  You  know  that  he  was  the  servant  of 
the  Vaughans  "  — 

"  No,"  interrupted  Charles,  "  I  knew  no  such  thing 
16 


242  THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

—  only  that  he  belonged  to  a  family  that  had  left 
the  town." 

"  True,"  she  resumed.  "  I  remember  that  I  kept 
back  that  particular,  for  fear  of  exciting  your  suspi 
cion.  But  their  servant  he  was,  and  treated  with 
merited  kindness  for  the  service  done  his  master ; 
which  resulted  in  disordering  his  poor  brain.  After 
he  came  to  live  at  my  father's,  he  never  seemed  to 
feel  at  home,  but  would  often  wander  away  at  night. 
I  suspected  that  his  resort  was  to  his  old  master's 
house,  and  that  it  was  his  prowling  about  it  that 
gave  it  its  bad  name.  But,  as  the  officers  who  first 
occupied  it  were  not  especially  pleasant  neighbors,  I 
did  not  interfere  with  his  amusements.  But  when 
you  came,  my  dear  "  — 

"  You  took  me  under  your  protection,  and  I  thank 
you,"  said  Charles,  laughing. 

"  Certainly  I  did,"  she  continued ;  "  but  I  thought 
he  might  just  try  your  courage  for  one  night.  I  had 
him  watched  out  of  the  house  by  my  maid,  and,  from 
the  glee  in  which  he  returned,  I  had  no  doubt  of  his 
entire  success.  That  was  the  first  night." 

"  But  pray  tell  me,"  asked  her  husband,  "  how  he 
performed  the  feat,  if  you  happen  to  know.  He  must 
have  had  wings,  though  I  never  saw  them." 

"  That  I  can,"  she  replied.  "  Poor  Peter  was  a 
native  African,  and  was  as  lithe  and  agile  as  a  mon 
key,  though  you  would  not  think  so  to  look  at  him. 
He  could  go  up  the  side  of  a  house  by  the  spout, 
or  the  slightest  inequalities,  like  a  cat.  When  you 


THE   HAUNTED  ADJUTANT.  243 

heard  him  walking  over  your  head,  and  went  up  to 
look  for  him,  he  swung  himself  out  of  the  window, 
shutting  it  cunningly  after  him,  and,  sliding  down  the 
spout,  was  in  a  second  at  the  window  of  your  closet. 
It  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment  to  do  what  you 
found  done,  and  of  another  moment  to  escape  as  he 
entered.  It  was  a  sort  of  spite  he  felt  against  in 
truders  in  that  house." 

"  But  how  came  he  by  my  orderly-book  ? "  in 
quired  Charles. 

"That  I  must  claim  as  my  unwilling  glory,"  an 
swered  Clara.  "  I  cross-examined  Peter  privately  on 
the  subject  of  his  night's  adventures,  and  strictly  for 
bade  his  repeating  his  visits  without  my  knowledge. 
I  must  confess,  however,  to  a  strong  desire  to  mys 
tify  you  a  little  further,  especially  as  I  had  learned 
from  my  maid,  who  was  a  flame  of  your  orderly,  of 
your  precautions.  I  accordingly  told  Peter  that  he 
might  visit  your  room  once  more,  disturbing  nothing, 
and  only  bringing  away  a  single  book  from  the 
table.  When  I  found  what  it  was,  I  was  frightened 
enough,  and,  when  I  learned  how  much  mischief  I  was 
near  doing,  you  know  I  was  half  distracted." 

"  I  remember  it  well,  and  put  it  all  down  to  my 
own  account." 

"  And  so  you  should,  to  be  sure,  Charles.  It  was 
all  on  your  account.  I  was.  relieved  by  finding  that 
the  mischief  could  be  repaired  if  the  book  were  re 
turned  in  time.  So  I  devised  several  ways  of  getting 
it  back  to  you,  which  I  abandoned,  for  fear  of  detec- 


244  THE  HAUNTED   ADJUTANT. 

tion.  My  party,  however,  on  Friday  night,  gave  me 
the  opportunity,  you  recollect,  of  spiriting  away  your 
servant,  and  getting  poor  Peter  within  your  lines 
of  intrenchment.  By  watching  his  opportunity,  he 
climbed  unperceived  to  your  closet,  where  he  ensconced 
himself,  biding  his  time.  I  had  told  him  to  restore 
it  as  nearly  as  he  could  to  the  place  whence  he  took 
it,  for  fear  of  mistakes.  In  due  time,  the  snoring  of 
your  watchful  friends  told  him  that  the  season  of 
action  was  come.  He  stole  into  the  room,  deposited 
the  book  on  the  table,  blew  out  the  lightsj  knocked 
the  two  sleepers'  heads  together,  and  retired,  covered 
with  glory.  The  rest  you  know  as  well  as  I.  This," 
continued  Clara,  "  is  the  revelation  of  the  only  secret 
I  ever  kept  from  you.  It  was  the  first :  it  shall  be 
the  last." 

"  Well,"  said  Hazlehurst,  as  the  party  rose  to  re 
tire  for  the  night,  "  there  is  an  end  of  my  only  ghost- 
story.  But  this  is  not  the  first  time  that  THE  DEVIL 
has  had  the  credit  of  a  piece  of  mischief  which  was, 
in  truth,  only  due  to  A  WOMAN." 


LEWIS    HERBERT. 


LEWIS  HERBERT; 

AN  INCIDENT  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  SLAVERY. 


"  \\  70RDS  are  things,"  said  Mirabeau,  and  very 
^*  troublesome  things  men  have  sometimes 
found  them.  Abstract  propositions  are  now  and 
then  as  dangerous  as  edged  tools.  The  "rhetorical 
flourish"  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence  has 
produced  effects  of  which  the  honest  men  who 
uttered  it  never  dreamed.  It  produced  an  explosion 
in  France,  which  shook  all  the  thrones  of  Europe, 
and  unsettled  the  deepest  foundations  of  old  estab 
lishments.  It  has  overthrown  the  domestic  institu 
tions  of  the  British  West  Indies,  and  is  even  now 
threatening  our  own  with  destruction.  There  is  no 
telling  where  its  ravages  will  be  stayed.  Indeed,  a 
new  idea  is  at  any  time  a  very  dangerous  thing  to 
be  allowed  to  go  at  large  in  a  quiet  community.  If 
a  man  has  hold  of  one,  he  must  take  care  how  he  lets 
it  go.  If  he  cannot  knock  it  on  the  head,  let  him 
make  a  cage  for  it  in  his  own  breast,  where  it  may 
serve  to  divert  himself  and  his  particular  friends 
occasionally;  but  let  him  beware  how  he  turns  it 


248  LEWIS  HERBERT. 

loose  upon  society.  It  will  be  almost  sure  to  worry 
himself  first  of  all,  and  then  to  play  the  very  deuce 
in  the  neighborhood.  And  the  mischief  is,  that,  when 
a  new  idea  is  once  on  foot,  it  is  next  to  impossible  to 
catch  it  or  destroy  it.  And  this,  notwithstanding  the 
respectable  part  of  society  has  an  instinctive  anti 
pathy  to  the  anomalous  monster,  and  does  all  it  can 
to  prevent  its  mischiefs  and  to  despatch  it,  and  that, 
generally,  without  much  regard  to  the  punctilios  of 
the  chase.  The  world  is  sadly  infested  at  this 
moment  with  these  vermin.  A  man  cannot  be  at 
peace  in  his  study,  his  pulpit,  his  business,  his  sect, 
his  party,  or  his  possessions,  for  them.  They  respect 
not  the  old  philosophies  and  theologies ;  they  dabble 
in  physic  and  in  law ;  they  buzz  about  in  churches 
and  capitols ;  they  interfere  between  men  and  their 
spiritual  and  temporal  masters;  like  harpies,  they 
carry  away  the  very  meat  and  wine  from  our  tables ; 
they  demand  a  reconstruction  of  society ;  they  even 
come  betwixt  us  and  our  very  bank-stock  and  money 
bags.  I  wonder  that  the  well-disposed  part  of  man 
kind  do  not  make  a  grand  battue  for  the  extermination 
of  these  pests  of  the  species.  We  shall  never  have  a 
quiet  world  again  until  they  do. 

Our  ancestors  of  the  times  that  tried  men's  souls 
had  their  own  experience  of  the  impracticable  nature 
of  new  ideas.  The  discussions  which  ushered  in  the 
great  "  rhetorical  flourish "  of  the  Fourth  of  July, 
"that  all  men  were  created  free  and  equal,"  were 
not  held  in  a  corner,  and  would  not  always  be  limited 


LEWIS  HERBERT.  249 

to  a  fit  audience.  The  slaves,  as  they  stood  behind 
their  masters'  chairs  (for  be  it  known  to  our  South 
ern  brethren,  that  their  favorite  system,  though  ever 
a  patriarchal,  was  not  always  a  peculiar  one),  or 
mingled  in  the  excited  crowds  in  the  streets,  could 
not  help  hearing  statements  of  general  principles, 
which,  though  notoriously  a  stupid  generation,  they 
contrived  to  generalize  sufficiently  to  make  them 
include  themselves.  A  practical  consequence  of 
these  new  ideas  of  human  rights  was,  that  many 
slaves  made  free  with  so  much  of  their  masters'  prop 
erty  as  was  comprised  within  the  circumference  of 
their  own  skins,  and,  dispensing  with  the  parental 
care  under  which  they  had  grown  up,  rashly  under 
took  the  charge  of  themselves.  Among  this  thought 
less  and  ungrateful  class  was  Lewis,  the  slave  of  a 
wealthy  and  distinguished  New  England  gentleman, 
whose  real  name  I  shall  disguise  under  that  of  Her 
bert.  Lewis  was  born  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Herbert, 
and  had  grown  to  manhood  in  his  service.  He  had 
no  reason  to  complain  of  harsh  treatment,  or  of  in 
attention  to  his  bodily  necessities.  He  had  passed 
the  middle  period  of  life,  and  was  not  many  years 
younger  than  his  master,  who  ever  treated  him  with 
much  consideration  and  indulgence.  In  the  realms 
of  the  kitchen  he  ruled  with  absolute  sway,  —  one  of 
those  despots  of  whom  most  families  whose  traditions 
reach  so  far  back  have  heard  the  fame  and  the  deeds. 
Mr.  Herbert  scarcely  dared  to  bring  a  friend  home  to 
dine  with  him,  without  consulting  the  convenience  of 


250  LEWIS   HERBERT. 

Lewis ;  and  as  to  a  dinner-party,  the  master  of  the 
house  knew  himself  to  be  but  second  in  command 
on  such  a  field-day.  Over  the  larder,  the  kitchen, 
the  wine-cellar,  the  plate-chest,  and  the  china-closet, 
he  reigned  undisputed  sovereign. 

Notwithstanding  his  ample  rule  and  high  preroga 
tives  (and  Lewis  magnified  his  office),  he  was  never 
quite  satisfied  that  he  had  his  due.  He  heard  the 
word  "  slave  "  used  as  the  most  ignominious  epithet 
that  could  be  applied  to  human  infamy,  and  he  learned 
to  hate  it.  He  heard  the  blessings  of  liberty  extolled 
as  the  birthright  of  all  mankind,  and  he  wished  to 
know  what  they  were.  He  did  not  see  (poor  slave 
that  he  was)  why  he  should  endure  a  condition 
which  so  many  great  men  seemed  to  regard  with 
such  abhorrence,  or  why  he  had  not  as  good  a  right 
to  that  freedom  of  which  they  discoursed  so  elo 
quently,  as  they  had.  I  must  do  Mr.  Herbert,  how 
ever,  the  justice  to  say,  that  it  was  not  from  his  lips, 
or  in  his  house,  that  Lewis  imbibed  these  extravagant 
ideas.  He  was  (God  bless  him  f)  a  stanch  Tory,  and 
held  all  these  levelling  doctrines  in  utter  abhorrence. 
But  the  air  was  tainted  with  them,  and  it  is  not  to 
be  wondered  at  that  poor  Lewis  should  have  been 
infected,  especially  as  his  temperament  and  condition 
predisposed  him  to  receive  the  contagion.  He  was 
so  severely  afflicted,  that  he  resolved  to  leave  the 
home  where  he  had  been  born  and  bred  up,  and 
where  he  enjoyed  all  the  substantial  goods  of  life,  in 
pursuit  of  that  phantom,  Liberty, —  that  ignis  fatuus 


LEWIS   HERBERT.  251 

which  has  often  led  men  such  a  dance,  and  at  last 
left  them  in  the  mire.  Accordingly,  one  fine  night, 
he  left  his  master's  house,  with  a  heavy  heart  and 
many  tears ;  for  the  love  of  the  African  race  for  their 
homes  and  old  familiar  haunts  amounts  to  a  passion. 
With  many  a  bitter  regret  at  leaving  his  old  master 
and  his  young  mistress,  and  with  many  a  sigh  at  all 
he  left  behind,  he  fared  forth  in  search  of  what  great 
men  have  deemed  but  a  name,  —  of  freedom  and  self- 
mastery.  Whether  his  experience  confirmed  or  con 
futed  this  philosophy,  I  am  not  able  to  say.  All  I 
know  is,  that  he  never  returned  to  his  master's  house, 
though  he  well  knew  that  he  would  receive  a  joyful 
welcome,  and  full  restitution  to  all  his  former  digni 
ties.  Mr.  Herbert,  though  grieved  and  hurt  at  the 
departure  of  Lewis,  took  no  measures  to  recover  his 
services,  but  suffered  him  to  seek  a  better  condition 
if  he  could  find  it. 

Several  years  had  passed  away  since  the  flight  of 
Lewis,  and  no  tidings  had  been  heard  of  him.  The 
cloud  which  had  been  so  long  gathering,  now  brooded 
in  blackness  over  the  land,  ready  to  burst  upon  it  in 
a  storm  of  desolation.  Indeed,  the  first  red  drops, 
the  forerunners  of  the  coming  tempest,  had  already 
fallen  at  Lexington,  and  men  were  awaiting  the  gen 
eral  crash  with  hearts  of  mingled  hope  and  fear.  The 
siege  of  Boston  was  forming  gradually  ;  and  the  timid 
of  either  party  were  endeavoring  to  escape  to  it  or 
from  it,  according  as  their  political  principles  led 


252  LEWIS  HERBERT. 

them  to  welcome  or  to  abhor  the  protection  of  the 
British  crown.  Mr.  Herbert  was  a  loyalist,  —  the 
most  loyal  of  the  loyal.  His  faith  in  the  omni 
potence  of  the  British  Parliament  was  worthy  of 
a  crown  lawyer.  He  believed  that  the  struggle 
would  soon  be  over,  and  its  only  result  would  be 
to  establish  King  George  III.  more  firmly  than 
ever  upon  his  throne  and  in  the  hearts  of  his  peo 
ple.  He  had  retired  several  years  before  to  his 
country-seat,  about  ten  miles  from  Boston ;  and  his 
advancing  age  and  increasing  infirmities  indisposed 
him  to  a  hasty  removal  to  a  beleaguered  capital. 
Though  he  had  held  office  under  the  crown,  still  he 
was  not  especially  obnoxious  to  the  popular  side, 
and  he  hoped  that  he  might  be  permitted  to  remain 
a  quiet  spectator  of  the  struggle,  unmolested  by 
either  party.  He  thought  that  an  elderly  man  and 
his  young  daughter  could  not  be  regarded  as  very 
dangerous  obstacles  to  the  progress  of  a  revolution. 
He  hoped  that  age  and  innocence  might  be  safe  from 
popular  violence.  But,  good  easy  man,  he  had  been 
brought  up  under  the  old  ideas.  Had  he  lived  at 
this  time,  he  would  have  known  better. 

It  was  a  blustering  evening  about  the  beginning 
of  May  (not  the  May  of  the  poets,  but  the  May  of 
New  England),  in  the  year  of  grace  1775.  Mr. 
Herbert  and  his  daughter,  his  only  child,  were  seated 
together  in  the  parlor  (for  in  those  days  drawing- 
rooms  were  not)  of  his  pleasant  country-house.  The 
shutters  were  closed,  and  the  heavy  crimson  curtains 


LEWIS  HERBERT.  253 

drawn,  concealing  the  deep  recesses  for  the  windows 
and  the  inviting  window-seats,  now,  alas  !  seen  no 
more  below.  The  light  of  the  noble  wood  fire 
(always  a  necessary  attendant  on  a  New  England 
May,  and  that  season  was  what  Horace  Walpole 
would  have  called  a  hard  spring),  roaring  up  the 
ample  chimney,  its  jambs  adorned  with  Dutch  tiles, 
and  its  mantel-piece  with  carving  in  wood,  of  which 
Grinling  Gibbons  need  not  have  been  ashamed,  flashed 
comfortably  back  from  the  panelled  walls,  pleasantly 
overpowering  the  rays  of  the  wax  candles  on  the  table. 
Every  panel  of  the  wall  supported  a  full-length  por 
trait  of  some  of  the  ancestral  Herberts,  from  the  pen 
cil  of  the  Smiberts  and  the  Blackburns  of  the  early 
provincial  days ;  while  upon  two  of  them  the  magic 
art  of  Copley  had  impressed  an  immortal  moment  of 
the  cheerful  age  and  of  the  brilliant  youth  of  the  pair 
before  us.  Change  but  the  brocaded  dressing-gown 
and  crimson  velvet  slippers  of  the  old  man  for  his 
claret-colored  dress -coat  with  gold  buttons,  and  gold- 
buckled  shoes,  and  divest  his  head  of  the  black  vel 
vet  skull-cap  turned  up  with  white  silk,  and  you 
could  scarcely  tell  which  was  the  picture,  and  which 
the  original  And  under  the  green  riding-habit, 
heavily  laced  with  gold,  and  the  riding-cap,  with  its 
black  ostrich-plume,  you  could  not  fail  to  discern  the 
form  and  features  of  the  beautiful  Emily  Herbert. 
Curiously  carved,  high-backed  arm-chairs;  cabinets 
that  would  have  driven  a  modern  collector  mad ; 
tables  of  every  variety  of  shape,  some  grasping  a 


254  LEWIS  HERBERT. 

huge  "ball  in  a  single  clawed  foot,  while  others  sus 
tained  themselves  upon  an  unaccountable  confusion 
of  legs ;  and  other  strange  furnitures,  whereof  modem 
upholstery  knows  not  the  names,  were  duly  arranged 
in  their  proper  places  about  the  ample  apartment. 
The  survivors  must  blush  at  the  confusion  in  which 
they  now  awake  and  find  themselves,  after  their  half- 
century  of  sleep,  in  modern  drawing-rooms.  Books 
there  were  good  store,  and  in  the  corner,  by  the  door, 
a  globe,  brought  from  the  library  for  some  special 
consultation.  The  father  and  his  fair  child  sat  by 
the  fire,  beside  a  small  table,  upon  which  stood  the 
supper-tray.  The  repast  was  slight ;  but  the  display 
of  plate  was  such  as  would  be  thought  unbefitting 
the  occasion  in  these  days.  But  in  that  world,  be 
fore  fancy  stocks,  —  when  cities  under  water,  and 
railways  to  the  Dismal  Swamp,  were  unimagined 
things,  —  much  capital,  comparatively,  was  invested 
in  plate.  And  these  marks  of  wealth,  reported  by 
the  British  officers  who  were  feasted  in  Boston  on 
their  return  from  the  conquest  of  Canada,  are  said 
to  have  been  a  main  temptation  to  the  ministry  to 
seek  to  repair  their  necessities  by  the  taxation  of  the 
Colonies.  Tall  decanters  blushed  with  the  glowing 
vintages  of  Madeira  and  Portugal,  and  beside  them 
an  exquisitely  delicate  bowl  of  curious  china  sent 
up  the  fumes  of  that  punch  which  was  our  fathers' 
"  earliest  visitation,  and  their  last  at  even." 

The  old  man  sat  looking  wistfully  into  the  fire, 
while  his   daughter,  leaning   her   cheek  upon    her 


LEWIS  HERBERT.  255 

hand,  gazed  anxiously  upon  his  face ;  for  those  were 
days  that  made  fair  young  brows  look  sad  and 
thoughtful  before- their  time.  The  clock  in  the  hall 
had  just  struck  ten  when  they  were  roused  from 
their  contemplations  by  the  sudden  opening  of  the 
door.  They  hastily  looked  round,  and,  to  their  sur 
prise,  the  long-lost  Lewis  stood  before  them.  Time 
had  somewhat  altered  him ;  and  his  whole  air  and 
bearing  was  changed  from  what  it  was  of  old  :  but  he 
it  was.  "  So  you  have  returned  at  last,"  began  Mr. 
Herbert ;  but  he  was  hastily  interrupted  by  Lewis. 
"  Sir,"  he  exclaimed  in  an  earnest  tone,  "  you  must 
instantly  leave  this  house.  You  have  not  a  moment 
to  lose."  —  "  Leave  my  house !  at  this  hour  !  Why, 
pray  ?  "  —  "  Because  the  mob  is  coming,  vowing  your 
destruction  arid  that  of  all  that  belongs  to  you." 
—  "  The  mob  !  and  for  what  ? "  —  "  They  say  that  you 
have  been  the  cause  of  all  their  troubles ;  that  they 
have  discovered  letters  and  what  not — but  make 
haste,  sir.  They  are  close  at  hand.  If  you  will 
listen,  you  can  hear  them  even  now."  He  hastily 
opened  the  window,  and  a  confused  murmur  of  voices 
was  heard,  approaching  nearer  and  nearer.  Mr.  Her 
bert,  who  had  started  to  his  feet  at  the  first  address 
of  his  slave,  now  sunk  despondingly  back  again  in 
his  arm-chair.  "  I  cannot  go,"  said  he.  "  Save  my 
child,  and  leave  me  to  my  fate."  —  "  For  God's  sake," 
exclaimed  Lewis,  "  rouse  yourself.  They  will  murder 
you.  They  swear  that  you  are  worse  than  Hutchin- 
son,  and  that  they  will  have  your  heart's  blood." 


256  LEWIS  HERBERT. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head.  "  Leave  me,"  said  he 
faintly,  "  and  save  her."  —  "  Dearest  father,  do  you 
think  I  will  leave  you?"  cried  Miss  Herbert,  pas 
sionately  embracing  him.  "  If  you  will  stay,  I  will  stay 
with  you.  But  will  you  suffer  your  only  child  to  see 
you  murdered  before  her  eyes,  and  then  to  be  exposed 
to  the  fury  of  a  rebel  mob  ? "  This  expostulation 
seemed  to  revive  him  in  some  degree ;  and  the  resolu 
tion  beaming  from  his  daughter's  eyes  gave  him  new 
strength  and  courage.  There  was  indeed  no  time  to 
lose.  The  shouts  and  imprecations  of  the  excited 
populace  were  now  too  distinctly  audible,  as  they 
approached  the  rear  of  the  house.  Mr.  Herbert  was 
almost  carried  out  of  the  house,  through  the  hall-door, 
between  his  daughter  and  his  slave.  The  house  was 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant  from  the  high-road. 
There  were  no  artificial  grounds  around  it.  The 
thick  grass  grew  up  to  the  door,  and  the  natural 
lawn  was  irregularly  dotted  with  aboriginal  elms  and 
oaks  which  the  axe  of  the  pioneer  had  spared.  At 
some  distance  on  the  left,  the  lawn  was  skirted  by  a 
young  growth  of  forest-trees.  To  this  point  Lewis 
first  directed  the  steps  of  his  charge ;  and  under  its 
shelter  they  approached  the  road  before  the  rnob  had 
reached  the  house.  There  he  paused  for  a  moment, 
to  allow  his  companions  to  take  breath,  and  to 
permit  the  stragglers  who  were  coming  in  from  the 
country  around  to  leave  the  road  free.  They  looked 
towards  the  house.  Lights  were  seen  flashing  at 
every  window.  The  mob  were  in  search  of  them. 


LEWIS  HERBERT.  257 

They  could  hear  distinctly  their  curses  of  disappoint 
ment  and  rage.  Presently  the  windows  were  dashed 
through,  and  the  furniture  thrown  furiously  out  upon 
the  lawn.  The  very  quiet  room,  where,  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  before,  all  had  been  peace  and  stillness,  was 
stripped  of  all  its  treasures  to  heap  high  the  bonfire 
which  was  to  crown  the  orgies  of  the  night.  The 
mob  had  soon  broken  into  the  wine-cellar ;  and  this 
circumstance,  and  the  prospect  of  the  "  festal  blaze," 
it  is  probable,  was  the  safety  of  the  fugitives,  by 
delaying  the  pursuit.  Presently  the  bonfire  began 
to  crackle  and  blaze;  and  the  shouts  became  more 
and  more  ferocious  under  the  combined  influence  of 
liquor  and  mischief. 

Foolish  tourists  in  America  complain  that  we  have 
no  amusements  in  this  country.  I  wish  they  could 
have  been  at  Walnut  Hill  that  night.  But  they  are 
a  perverse  generation.  Have  they  never  heard  of  our 
merry  times  of  old,  —  sacking  Governor  Hutchinson's 
house,  and  tarring  and  feathering  obnoxious  officials, 
and  the  grand  old  tea-party  of  '73  ?  And  then  our 
rare  sport  in  burning  convents,  and  halls  dedicated 
to  freedom,  and  dragging  insolent  varlets  about  the 
streets,  who  dared  to  say  that  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  meant  anything,  and  shooting  them 
down  at  the  doors  of  their  printing-offices !  They 
might  at  least  have  remembered  the  fun  we  have 
had  in  hoaxing  "  the  English  epicures  "  into  invest 
ing  their  solid  hoards  in  a  very  rotten  commodity 
of  ours,  called  public  faith,  worth  about  as  much 
17 


258  LEWIS   HERBERT. 

as  a  dicer's  oath,  or  the  bought  smile  of  a  prostitute. 
And  our  repudiation,  too  !  If  that  be  not  an  excellent 
jest,  I  should  like  to  know  what  is.  I  say  nothing 
of  the  royal  pastimes  of  burning  men  alive  by  a 
slow  fire,  of  hunting  negroes  with  bloodhounds  and 
rifles,  of  whipping  women  to  death,  and  selling  one's 
own  children  by  the  pound;  for  these  are  the  recrea 
tions  of  our  betters,  the  guarded  prerogative  of  the 
privileged  classes.  This  kind  of  game  is  strictly 
preserved,  and  secured  for  the  amusement  of  our 
masters,  as  the  chase  was  in  old  time  confined  to 
the  corresponding  class  in  Europe.  Like  them,  too, 
our  lords  claim  the  privilege  of  pursuing  their  game 
over  the  soil  of  their  vassals.  But,  though  shut  out 
from  these  diversions  of  our  superiors,  we  can  still 
share  with  them  the  stirring  excitement  of  the  mob, 
the  delicate  pleasantry  of  repudiation,  and  the 
delicious  irony  of  lynch  law.  Why,  what  would 
these  cavillers  have  ?  No  amusements,  indeed ! 

The  blazing  bonfire  soon  attracted  all  the  loiterers 
in  the  road,  and  Lewis  seized  the  opportunity  to  cross 
it,  with  his  companions,  into  the  fields  beyond.  He 
knew  that  the  main  roads  in  every  direction  would 
be  soon  thronged  by  yet  greater  numbers,  attracted 
by  the  blaze ;  and  he  pushed  across  the  fields  towards 
the  seashore,  about  two  miles  off,  as  the  most  probable 
way  of  concealment  or  escape.  They  hurried  along, 
as  fast  as  the  infirmities  of  Mr.  Herbert  would  per 
mit,  over  the  uneven  surface  of  the  land ;  and  slow 
enough  it  seemed  to  his  companions.  The  night  was 


LEWIS  HERBERT.  259 

more  like  one  in  November  than  in  May,  and  the 
chilly  wind  drifted  the  clouds  in  black  masses  over 
the  waning  moon.  They  accomplished  in  safety 
about  half  the  distance,  and  found  themselves  in 
a  lane  leading  to  the  coast.  Here  Mr.  Herbert  de 
clared  that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  proceed.  It 
was  in  vain  that  his  daughter  and  Lewis  endeavored 
to  re-assure  him,  and  drag  him  forward.  He  sunk 
despondingly  upon  the  ground.  At  that  moment  a 
single  horseman  rode  up.  He  stopped  to  see  what 
was  the  matter.  The  cloud  passed  from  the  moon 
for  an  instant,  and  he  saw  at  a  glance  how  it  was. 
"So  the  old  rascal  has  got  away,"  said  he  with  an 
oath ;  "  but  I'll  soon  bring  those  that  will  settle  his 
business."  He  was  just  putting  spurs  to  his  horse, 
when  Lewis,  seeing  the  emergency  of  the  case,  seized 
his  bridle  fast.  It  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment. 
The  horseman  was  dragged  from  his  seat,  and  thrown 
upon  the  side  of  the  lane,  and  Lewis  had  lifted  Mr. 
Herbert  into  the  saddle.  Leading  the  horse,  and 
entreating  Miss  Herbert  to  assist  in  steadying  her 
father  upon  his  back,  he  hurried  onward  as  fast  as 
he  dared.  This  was  the  more  necessary,  as  they 
heard  the  dismounted  cavalier,  as  soon  as  he  could 
recover  his  breath  and  his  senses,  making  towards 
the  light,  roaring  for  assistance.  It  seemed  as 
though  they  never  would  reach  the  end  of  the  lane. 
Mr.  Herbert  swayed  upon  the  saddle  like  a  drunken 
man,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  they  kept  him 
from  falling.  Before  they  had  gained  the  shore, 


260  LEWIS   HERBERT. 

they  knew  that  their  pursuers  had  been  put  upon 
the  right  scent.  They  were  nearing  them  fast,  when 
the  fugitives  at  last  came  out  upon  the  sands.  The 
hurried  footsteps,  shouts,  execrations,  and  dancing 
lights  of  the  mob,  seemed  fearfully  near.  What 
were  they  to  do  ?  Fortunately,  Lewis  espied  a 
gentleman's  boat-house,  built  over  a  little  creek 
hard  by.  "  I  must  make  free  with  Colonel  Vernon's 
boat,"  exclaimed  he,  and,  suiting  the  action  to  the 
word,  he  demolished  the  padlock  on  the  door  with  a 
huge  stone.  By  an  equally  summary  process  he 
freed  the  boat  from  its  moorings,  and  pushed  it  out 
of  its  covert.  It  seemed  to  be  too  late,  for  the  rioters 
were  almost  upon  them.  He  dashed  through  the 
waves,  and,  taking  Mr.  Herbert  in  his  arms,  deposited 
him  in  the  forward  part  of  the  boat,  arid  then,  in  like 
manner  placing  Miss  Herbert  at  the  helm,  with  a 
hurried  instruction  how  to  hold  it,  grasped  the  oars. 
A  second's  delay  or  misadventure  had  been  fatal ;  for 
the  crowd  were  already  upon  the  beach,  exulting 
over  their  prey.  But  a  single  stroke  of  the  oars 
placed  them  beyond  their  reach.  Maddened  with 
drink  and  rage,  the  pursuers  rushed  into  the  sea 
with  yells  and  imprecations,  in  hopes  to  seize  the 
boat.  A  shower  of  stones  rained  upon  the  fugitives. 
But,  luckily,  the  rioters  had  no  fire-arms,  and  a 
sweep  or  two  more  of  the  oars  placed  them  beyond 
danger  and  annoyance.  The  bay  upon  which  they 
were  launched  was  so  completely  land-locked,  that 
it  was  more  like  an  inland  lake  than  the  wide  Atlan- 


LEWIS   HERBERT.  261 

tic.  They  were  soon  careering  over  the  gentle  bil 
lows,  leaving  the  confused  noise  of  the  baffled  mob 
far  behind  them,  and  they  forgot  for  the  moment, 
in  the  sweet  sense  of  present  security,  what  they  had 
suffered  and  lost. 

As  soon  as  the  first  tumults  of  joy  were  over,  Lewis 
explained  his  agency  in  the  matter.  It  seems,  that, 
after  he  left  Mr.  Herbert's  house,  he  had  gone  to 
Portsmouth,  in  New  Hampshire,  where  he  lived  until 
he  happened  to  hear  that  his  old  master  had  removed 
permanently  into  the  country.  He  then  returned  to 
Boston,  not  long  before,  and  went  into  the  service  of 
a  distinguished  patriot.  He  had  left  the  town  pre 
viously  to  the  siege,  with  this  gentleman's  family. 
It  was  in  this  situation  that  he  heard  of  the  popu 
lar  excitement  against  his  old  master,  as  a  traitor 
to  the  country  (whether  just  or  not,  we  have  not 
time  now  to  inquire),  and  of  the  determination  of 
the  populace  to  wreak  their  vengeance  upon  him. 
By  pretending  to  join  them,  he  had  been  able  to  get 
enough  in  advance  of  them  to  defeat  their  plans, 
as  we  have  seen.  While  thus  explaining,  the  boat 
rounded  the  point  of  Long  Island,  and  was  instantly 
challenged  from  his  Majesty's  frigate  "  Arethusa," 
which  lay  at  anchor  in  the  channel.  Explanations 
were  soon  given.  The  fugitives  were  cordially  wel 
comed  to  the  hospitalities  of  the  ship  for  the  night, 
and  the  next  morning  they  were  safely  landed  in 
Boston. 


262  LEWIS   HERBERT. 

Long  years  passed  away.  The  struggle  was  over. 
The  seven  years  of  apprenticeship  were  at  an  end ; 
and  the  American  Colonies,  erected  into  the  United 
States,  had  set  up  the  trade  of  government  on  their 
own  account.  The  expectations  of  the  English 
ministry  were  disappointed,  and  the  hopes  of  the 
loyalists  crushed  forever.  The  treaty  of  Paris  had 
crowned  the  work :  and  the  rebellion  was  trans 
muted,  by  the  magic  of  success,  into  the  Eevolution. 
Many  hearts  rejoiced  at  the  prosperous  issue ;  some, 
because  they  glowed  with  patriotic  fires ;  some, 
because  they  saw  a  new  and  untried  career  of  ambi 
tion  opened  before  them ;  some,  because  the  final 
seal  was  set  upon  the  confiscations  and  forfeitures 
of  the  troublous  times,  and  confirmed  their  titles  to 
other  people's  estates.  But  there  were,  too,  sorrowful 
spirits  and  breaking  hearts,  wearing  out  sad  years  of 
exile  in  a  foreign  land,  upon  whose  ears  the  distant 
rejoiQings  sounded  like  the  death-knell  of  their  hopes. 
To  such  we  turn. 

One  of  the  gloomiest  days  of  a  London  November 
was  drawing  towards  its  close.  The  sun  vainly 
endeavored  to  pierce  the  thick  fog  that  buried  the 
city  in  an  untimely  night.  The  street-lamps  were 
lighted,  though  it  was  not  yet  sunset :  and  the  win 
dows  of  the  shops  and  houses  shot  forth  uncertain 
glimmerings  into  the  darkness.  A  single  candle 
sufficed  to  light  up  a  humble  room  on  the  fourth 
floor  of  a  dilapidated  house  in  an  obscure  part  of 
the  city.  It  had  not  much  to  reveal  A  ragged  car- 


LEWIS   HERBERT.  263 

pet  strove  to  hide  the  middle  of  the  floor;  a  few 
common  chairs  (no  two  alike),  a  deal  table,  and  a 
rough  bedstead,  all  bearing  the  tokens  of  poverty 
and  the  pawnbroker's  shop,  filled  up  the  disposable 
space  of  the  chamber.  A  handful  of  coals  upon  the 
grate  seemed  to  be  endeavoring  to  excite  themselves 
into  a  blaze,  sending  out  into  the  room  an  occasional 
puff  of  smoke  as  an  earnest  of  their  good  intentions. 
The  room  was  scrupulously  clean,  but  in  all  other 
respects  bore  the  marks  of  extreme  poverty.  Upon 
the  bed  reclined  an  old  man,  propped  by  pillows, 
apparently  in  the  last  stage  of  life.  By  his  side  sat 
a  woman  of  perhaps  thirty,  but  upon  whose  counte 
nance  care  and  sorrow  had  done  the  work  of  many 
years.  The  unnatural  brightness  of  her  eye,  the 
hectic  spot  on  her  cheek,  and  the  frequent  though 
stifled  cough,  showed  that  she  was  not  much  longer 
for  the  world  than  her  aged  companion.  "Emily, 
my  love,"  said  Mr.  Herbert,  for  he  it  was,  "  what 
was  that  knocking  that  just  awoke  me  ? "  —  "  It  was 
nothing,  sir,"  replied  his  daughter,  "  but  Mrs.  Hobbs, 
coming  after  her  rent.  You  remember  that  the  doc 
tor's  fee  last  week,  when  you  were  so  ill,  swallowed 
up  that  week's  rent,  so  that  we  are  now  a  fortnight 
in  arrears.  But  I  pacified  her  by  promising  she 
should  be  paid  as  soon  as  Lewis  arrives.  You  know 
it  is  Saturday  night."  —  "  Ah  !  she  awoke  me  from  a, 
most  delicious  dream.  I  thought  I  stood,  as  I  often 
do  in  dreams,  upon  the  lawn  at  Walnut  Hill.  The 
shadows  of  the  old  trees  fell,  sharply  defined,  on  the 


264  LEWIS   HERBERT. 

grass;  beyond,  the  Neponset  reflected  the  trees  on 
his  banks,  as  he  used  to  do ;  the  Blue  Hill  was 
on  my  right  hand,  the  old  woods  on  ray  left,  and  the 
ocean  gleamed  in  the  distance.  As  I  stood  there,  it 
seemed  to  me  as  if  all  that  I  have  ever  known  during 
my  long  life  passed  in  friendly  procession  before  me. 
First  my  parents,  and  brothers  and  sisters,  then  my 
school-fellows  and  college-companions,  and  so  on,  as 
long  as  I  had  a  friend  left  It  seemed  as  if  they  were 
gathered  to  some  great  festival,  of  which  I  was  the 
central  attraction.  How  I  rejoiced  in  the  sight  of 
their  beloved  countenances  ! "  —  "  You  have  at  least 
one  friend  left,  sir,"  interposed  his  daughter.  "  True, 
my  dear,  and  one  worth  hundreds  that  have  called 
themselves  so.  What  would  my  proud  ancestors  have 
said,  what  should  I  have  said  in  my  pride  of  life, 
had  it  been  foretold  that  I  and  my  child  would  one 
day  be  dependent  for  our  daily  bread  on  the  bounty 
of  a  negro !"  —  "  Dear  Lewis !"  said  Miss  Herbert,  "  he 
has  saved  our  lives  many  times.  What  should  we 
have  done  without  him  ? "  —  "  What,  indeed  ! "  rejoined 
her  father.  "  When  the  compensation  allowed  for  my 
losses  by  the  government  was  absorbed  by  my  old 
English  debts,  and  when,  that  not  sufficing,  my  very 
pension  was  sold,  we  must  have  starved,  or  come 
upon  the  parish,  but  for  him.  God  will  reward 
him."  A  light  tap  was  heard  at  the  door,  which 
was  gently  opened,  and  Lewis  entered,  his  face 
beaming  with  satisfaction,  for  it  had  been  a  pros 
perous  week  with  him.  Years  had  grizzled  his  hair, 


LEWIS  HERBERT.  265 

and  slightly  bent  his  frame  ;  but  "  his  age  was  like  a 
lusty  winter,  frosty,  but  kindly."  He  wore  the 
dress  of  the  waiter  of  a  tavern,  in  which  capacity 
he  had  for  many  years  supported  himself  and  his 
proteges.  On  his  arm  he  bore  a  covered  basket 
containing  provisions,  which  he  had  just  been  pur 
chasing.  He  cheerfully  advanced  to  Miss  Herbert, 
and  gave  her  money  for  her  clamorous  landlady 
and  other  expenses.  He  then  busied  himself  in 
putting  the  room  to  rights,  and  in  performing  various 
services  about  the  sick-bed.  There  was  a  cheerful 
alacrity  about  him  which  showed  that  his  labors 
were  indeed  those  of  love.  There  was  nothing  of 
servility  about  the  marked  respect  which  he  paid 
to  Mr.  and  Miss  Herbert.  His  good-breeding  was 
learnt  in  no  coterie  or  court ;  but  it  could  not  have 
been  surpassed  by  the  most  accomplished  graduate 
of  either;  for  he  bestowed  the  greatest  of  benefac 
tions  without  seeming  conscious  that  they  were 
such,  and  saved  the  pride  of  his  beneficiaries  while 
he  supplied  their  necessities.  He  was  fully  aware 
of  the  obligations  under  which  he  had  laid  the  help 
less  pair  before  him,  and  they  knew  it;  but  they 
both  felt  as  if  his  relation  to  them  was  that  of  a 
father  or  a  brother.  Misery  is  a  great  leveller  of  the 
distinctions  men  have  made  between  themselves  and 
their  fellow-men.  But  there  was  nothing  in  the  de 
portment  of  Lewis  that  ever  reminded  his  former 
master  and  mistress  of  their  obligations  to  him. 
At  last,  he  said  that  it  was  time  to  go,  as  there 


266  LEWIS   HERBERT. 

was  a  great  supper  at  the  Angel  that  night.  As  he 
turned  to  leave  the  room,  Mr.  Herbert  detained  him. 
"  Lewis,"  said  he,  "  I  feel  as  if  my  time  was  short, 
and  I  have  a  word  or  two  to  say  to  you."  Lewis 
put  down  his  hat,  and  approached  the  bedside.  "  My 
friend,"  Mr.  Herbert  resumed,  "  my  child  and  I  owe 
you  many  lives.  You  saved  us  from  a  mob  in 
America,  and  from  starvation  here."  Lewis  made  a 
deprecating  gesture ;  and  his  countenance  indicated 
so  much  distress,  that  Mr.  Herbert  proceeded,  "  I 
am  not  going  to  thank  you,  my  friend,  for  that  I  can 
not  do,  —  God  will  thank  you,  —  but  to  ask  you  to 
continue  to  be  the  friend  of  my  child  when  I  am 
dead."  Lewis  looked  half  reproachfully  at  his  old 
master,  as  if  hurt  at  the  implication  that  such  a 
request  was  necessary,  and  then  turned  his  eyes 
upon  Miss  Herbert.  They  filled  with  tears  as  they 
rested  upon  her ;  for  he  saw,  though  her  father  did 
not,  how  short  a  time  she  was  destined  to  remain 
behind  him.  He  could  not  speak ;  but  he  took  Miss 
Herbert's  hand  and  kissed  it.  Lord  Chesterfield  could 
not  have  done  it  more  expressively.  Mr.  Herbert  was 
made  easy  on  that  point.  "  Now  tell  me,"  he  resumed, 
"  whether  you  have  made  any  inquiries  as  to  my  old 
loyalist  friends  at  the  other  end  of  the  town :  do 
they  suspect  where  lam?" — "I  have. good  reason 
to  know,"  replied  Lewis,  "  that  they  believe  you 
returned  long  since  to  America,  and  have  no  sus 
picion  of  your  being  still  in  London."  — "  That  is 
well,"  rejoined  Mr.  Herbert :  "  let  the  secret  be  still 


LEWIS  HERBERT.  267 

kept,  that  the  world  "  (his  little  loyalist  world)  "may 
never  know  of  the  latter  days  of  Philip  Herbert." 
He  extended  his  hand  to  his  benefactor,  and,  sinking 
back  upon  his  pillow,  closed  his  eyes.  Lewis,  in 
strong  emotion,  stole  from  the  room.  He  returned 
about  midnight,  and,  as  soon  as  he  looked  upon  the 
face  of  the  sick  man,  he  saw  that  he  was  dying. 
Miss  Herbert  had  suspected  as  much,  and  was 
anxiously  awaiting  his  arrival.  They  exchanged 
looks :  no  words  were  needed.  Lewis  took  his  sta 
tion  on  the  other  side  of  the  bed,  and  they  remained 
all  night  watching  the  face  of  the  dying  man. 
Towards  morning,  he  opened  his  eyes,  and  turning 
them  first  upon  his  friend,  and  then  upon  his  child, 
with  that  look  which  only  a  dying  man  can  give,  he 
closed  them  again  forever. 

I  need  not  prolong  my  tale.  More  than  half  a  cen 
tury  has  passed  away  since  all  its  actors  disappeared, 
like  drops  of  rain  in  the  ocean.  They  sleep  together 
in  one  of  the  hideous  churchyards  of  London,  and 
are  forgotten.  Of  the  colonial  glories  of  the  Herberts, 
of  the  miseries  of  their  exile,  of  the  heroic  self-devo 
tion  of  Lewis,  not  a  trace  is  left,  except  this  imperfect 
tradition.  Heroic  his  conduct  surely  deserves  to  be 
called  ;  for  what  is  heroism  but  intelligent  self-devo 
tion  to  an  unselfish  end,  self-sacrifice  for  the  advan 
tage  of  others  ?  And  when  those  for  whom  the 
sacrifices  of  years  were  made  had  inflicted  upon  him 
who  made  them  the  greatest  wrong  man  can  do  to 


268  LEWIS  HERBERT. 

man,  when  self-devotion  was  thus  the  companion 
of  godlike  forgiveness,  surely  it  was  a  height  of 
virtue  to  which  the  annals  of  the  race  can  furnish 
but  few  parallels.  For  Lewis  was  no  besotted  slave, 
whom  favors  or  blows  had  so  imbruted  that  he  could 
not  discern  his  own  rights,  so  that  he  blindly  fol 
lowed  his  master,  in  the  belief  that  he  was  entitled 
to  his  lifelong  service.  He  had  shown  his  sense  of 
the  degradation  and  injustice  of  his  servile  estate 
by  leaving  the  persons  and  the  scenes  he  loved,  for 
freedom,  though  in  a  worse  condition,  and  refusing 
to  return  again  until  misfortune  had  overshadowed 
them.  That  he  did  not  grudge  his  services,  he 
showed  by  his  cheerful  gift  of  them  to  those  he 
loved,  when  they  were  his  own  to  give. 

Perhaps  there  may  be  some  who  will  deem  it 
strange  that  the  Herberts  should  have  consented 
to  be  thus  the  dependents  of  a  negro  once  their 
slave.  Such  should  be  very  careful  of  their  cen 
sures,  for  they  may  reach  farther  than  they  think. 
Was  it  more  disgraceful  to  the  Herberts  to  live  in 
London  upon  the  earnings  of  a  negro,  freely  offered 
for  the  love  he  bore  them,  than  it  is  to  grave  judges, 
learned  divines,  and  honorable  women,  to  live  upon 
the  earnings  of  negroes  in  Charleston  or  Baltimore, 
extorted  by  the  fear  or  the  application  of  torture  ? 
Which  is  the  meaner  and  more  ignominious  liveli 
hood  of  the  two  ?  The  same  practical  results  are 
worked  out  on  many  a  broad  plantation  and  in 
many  a  splendid  city  mansion,  that  we  have  seen 


LEWIS  HERBERT.  269 

produced  in  an  obscure  garret  in  London ;  only  the 
motive-power  that  creates  them  is  the  scourge  or 
the  branding-iron,  instead  of  generous  affection. 
There  are  many  men  of  eminent  station,  and  who 
boast  loudly  of  the  sensitiveness  of  their  honor, 
who  eat  dirtier  bread  every  day  of  their  lives  than 
did  the  Herberts  during  their  last  and  evil  days. 

There  may  be  others  who  cannot  understand  why 
Lewis,  when  he  was  so  ready  to  give  his  services  for 
nothing  in  the  days  of  his  master's  distress,  should 
have  deserted  him  in  the  days  of  his  prosperity, 
when  his  fidelity  might  have  met  with  some  reward. 
If  there  be  any  who  cannot  perceive  the  difference 
between  the  free  gifts  of  love  and  the  extorted  tri 
bute  of  involuntary  servitude,  I  have  no  time  left  to 
point  it  out.  I  can  only  say,  that,  if  it  were  an  error, 
it  was  one  which  he  shared  with  the  noblest  natures 
and  the  most  generous  spirits.  The  divine  instinct 
of  liberty,  to  which  he  yielded,  and  which  is  even 
now  urging  hundreds  of  fugitives  towards  the  polar 
star,  is  that  which  has  shed  the  purest  glory  upon 
the  page  of  history,  and  given  to  poetry  its  truest 
inspiration.  Its  manifestations,  however  coarse  or 
barbarous  they  may  have  been,  ever  have  appealed 
with  resistless  power  to  the  universal  human  heart. 
It  was  this  principle  that  wreathed  with  myrtle  the 
sword  of  Harmodius,  and  has  invested  with  immortal 
memories  the  steel  of  Brutus  and  the  shaft  of  Tell. 
It  was  this  that  sent  Hampden  reeling  in  his  sad- 


270  LEWIS   HERBERT. 

die,  a  dying  man,  from  Chalgrave  field ;  that  taught 
Milton 

"  To  scorn  delights,  and  live  laborious  days  ; " 

and  that  made  Vane  and  Sidney  lay  down  their 
heads  upon  the  block,  as  if  it  were  some  beloved 
bosom  wooing  them  to  repose.  To  those  who  feel 
that  freedom  is  the  only  element  in  which  the  soul 
can  grow  and  expand,  and  who  can  appreciate  the 
virtues  which  are  its  genial  growth,  in  however 
humble  a  breast  or  obscure  a  lot,  I  cheerfully 
commend  the  memory  and  the  example  of  LEWIS 
HERBERT. 


TWO  NIGHTS  IN  ST.   DOMINGO. 


TWO  NIGHTS  IN  ST.  DOMINGO; 

"AN  OWER  TRUE  TALE." 


TT  was  a  gay  night  at  the  Habitation  du  Plessis, 
that  of  the  22d  of  August,  1791.  The  evening 
breeze,  fresh  from  the  cool  fields  of  the  ocean,  had 
breathed  a  new  elasticity  into  hearts  that  had  been 
all  day  fainting  beneath  the  vertical  sun  of  a  tropical 
midsummer.  The  first  rustle  of  its  wings,  as  it  stirred 
the  trees  that  imbosomed  the  mansion,  had  summoned 
the  scattered  guests  from  their  various  inventions  for 
speeding  the  weary  day,  and  assembled  them  in  the 
great  hall  that  occupied  the  whole  depth  and  height 
of  the  central  building.  The  lofty  doors  were  flung 
open,  and  the  tall  windows  on  either  side  of  them 
expanded  their  slender  valves  from  the  floor  to  the 
ceiling  to  welcome  the  healing  gale.  The  small  party, 
consisting  of  some  half-dozen  besides  the  master  and 
mistress  of  the  house,  were  dispersed  over  the  spacious 
apartment,  in  various  attitudes  and  different  employ 
ments.  A  card-table  engrossed  the  souls  of  the  elder 
and  more  sedate  division  of  the  company.  A  younger 
group  was  clustered  around  the  harp  of  the  beautiful 
18 


274  TWO  NIGHTS  IN  ST.   DOMINGO. 

Mademoiselle  de  Mirecourt,  the  sole  heiress  of  this 
noble  estate  and  its  thousand  slaves.  And,  when  her 
song  had  ceased,  the  gay  Abbe  de  Valnais  showed  by 
the  brilliancy  of  his  sallies  and  the  piquancy  of  his 
bom  mots,  that  he  had  left  neither  his  wit  nor  his 
good  spirits  behind  him  at  Paris,  when  he  fled  from 
it  with  the  first  emigration. 

While  the  hall  rung  with  the  gay  voices  and  merry 
laughter  of  this  mercurial  circle,  Mr.  Vincent,  a  young 
American  newly  arrived  in  the  island,  and  but  that 
day  at  the  Habitation,  stood  by  himself  beneath  the 
broad  veranda,  and  looked  out  upon  a  scene  of  such 
beauty  as  he  had  never  before  gazed  upon.  Beneath 
him  lay  the  plain  of  the  Cape,  sleeping  in  the  mellow 
light  of  a  moon  that  might  well  put  to  shame  most  of 
the  suns  of  his  colder  skies,  skirted  by  shadowy  moun 
tains,  standing  around  it  like  guardian  giants,  and 
terminated  in  the  far  distance  by  the  ocean,  that 
gleamed  in  the  moonlight  like  a  sea  of  molten  silver. 
All  around  him  was  a  wilderness  of  trees  and  shrubs, 
new  to  his  Northern  eye.  The  multitudinous  sounds 
of  a  tropical  night  fell  strangely,  but  not  unharmo- 
niously,  on  his  ear ;  while  the  air  that  played  about 
his  temples  came  loaded  with  perfumes  such  as  might 
have  breathed  from  "  the  spicy  shores  of  Araby  the 
blest." 

He  turned  his  eyes  to  the  scene  within,  and  it  was 
scarcely  less  a  scene  of  enchantment  to  one  who  had 
sprung  up  to  early  manhood  on  the  rocky  shores  of 
New  England.  The  lofty  and  beautifully  proportioned 


TWO   NIGHTS  IN   ST.   DOMINGO.  275 

hall,  filled  with  all  the  appliances  and  means  of  trop 
ical  luxury,  —  somewhat  too  massive  and  gorgeous  in 
its  furniture,  perhaps,  to  please  a  severe  eye,  and  bet 
ter  suited  to  the  meridian  of  Paris  than  of  St.  Domingo, 
but  all  splendid  with  gilding  and  carved  work,  in  the 
rich  though  somewhat  questionable  taste  of  the  later 
days  of  the  French  monarchy,  —  seemed  as  if  it  might 
be  the  palace  of  Arinida  rising  in  the  midst  of  her 
enchanted  gardens.  Out  of  the  hall  opened  a  noble 
library,  rich  with  the  spoils  of  all  past  time.  Next 
to  it,  the  billiard-room  invited  the  lovers  of  such  pas-, 
time.  On  the  opposite  sides,  the  saloons,  or,  as  they 
would  now  be  called,  the  drawing-rooms,  their  walls 
glittering  with  gilding,  and  flashing  with  mirrors,  and 
furnished  as  only  French  upholsterers  then  knew  how, 
seemed  as  if  some  magician  had  transported  the  sa 
loons  of  Paris  many  a  league  across  the  ocean,  from 
the  banks  of  the  Seine  to  this  distant  isle.  Adjoining 
them  was  the  dining-room,  furnished  with  equal  rich 
ness,  though  in  a  more  quiet  style;  the  splendid  side 
board  groaning  beneatli  the  ancestral  plate  of  many  a 
generation,  and  its  walls  hung  with  choice  cabinet 
pictures,  chiefly  of  festive  and  joyous  scenes,  sugges 
tive  of  wine  and  mirth.  But  at  this  torrid  season 
the  hall,  from  its  greater  height  and  airiness,  was  the 
chosen  scene  of  the  reunions  of  the  household.  As 
the  young  American  turned  from  the  scene  of  beauty 
without  to  that  of  splendor  within,  he  thought  only  of 
the  happiness  which  must  be  the  attendant  of  such 
boundless  wealth :  his  mind  dwelt  as  little  at  that 


276  TWO   NIGHTS  IN  ST.   DOMINGO. 

moment  on  the  misery  and  wrong  upon  which  all  this 
splendor  was  upreared,  and  on  the  ruin  which  the 
upheaving  of  those  foundations  was  about  to  work, 
as  it  did  upon  the  volcanic  fires  that  lay  beneath  the 
exhaustless  soil  and  superb  vegetation  that  surrounded 
him,  and  which  might  in  a  moment  make  the  whole 
paradise  a  waste. 

And  the  Marquis  cle  Mirecourt  himself,  as  he  laid 
down  his  cards,  and  joined  the  rest  of  the  party,  when 
supper  was  announced,  for  a  moment  forgot,  as  he 
gave  himself  up  to  the  enchantment  of  the  scene,  that 
he  was  an  exile  from  that  Paris  he  so  dearly  loved. 
Though  surrounded  with  every  luxury  that  the  most 
unbounded  wealth  could  furnish,  in  the  most  delicious 
of  climates,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  divinest  of  scen 
ery,  he  still  sighed  in  secret  for  the  narrow  streets, 
formal  gardens,  and  crowded  saloons  of  the  metropolis 
of  the  senses.  He  had  left  France  amid  the  very  first 
mutterings  of  the  Eevolutionary  storm,  and,  leaving 
his  paternal  chateau  in  Dauphin  e  to  the  mercy  of  his 
white  slaves,  whose  hour  had  at  last  come,  he  betook 
himself  to  the  estate  in  St.  Domingo,  which  he  had 
received  by  marriage  with  a  young  Creole  heiress, 
whom  he  espoused  from  the  convent,  whither  she 
had  been  sent  for  her  education. 

On  this  night,  however,  his  heart  was  glad  within 
him  ;  for  he  was  surrounded  by  kindred  spirits,  —  men 
of  high  birth,  of  aristocratic  habits,  of  refined  tastes 
—  such  as  had  been  the  companions  of  his  happier 
days.  The  supper-table  was  laid  in  the  centre  of  the 


TWO  NIGHTS  IN  ST.  DOMINGO.  277 

hall.  In  all  its  appointments  it  would  have  done 
no  discredit  to  the  most  historical  of  the  houses  of 
the  age  of  petits  soupers.  Candelabras  of  massive 
silver  poured  down  a  flood  of  light  upon  the  repast ; 
tall  shades  of  the  clearest  crystal  guarding  the  wax 
candles  from  the  welcome  gale.  The  most  exquisite 
of  French  dishes  (for  M.  de  Mirecourt  had  not  been 
so  improvident  as  to  leave  his  chef  de  cuisine  behind 
him),  served  upon  solid  plate,  gave  place  at  their  due 
time  to  the  most  delicious  of  the  tropical  fruits, 
glowing  in  the  beautiful  porcelain  of  Sevres,  —  a  gift 
of  royalty  when  royalty  was  something  more  than 
a  name.  The  richest  and  rarest  of  wines,  cooled  to 
a  charm,  were  marshalled  in  that  festive  procession, 
which  the  experience  of  successive  generations  of 
gourmets  had  established  as  their  due  order  of  prece 
dence.  The  delicate  chablis  ushered  in  the  feast ;  the 
frolic  champagne,  and  the  freshness  of  the  fragrant 
Rhine-wine,  enlivened  its  solemn  march  as  it  moved 
onward ;  while 

"The  gay,  serene,  good-natured  Burgundy  " 

threw  a  sunset  glow  over  its  brilliant  conclusion. 
A  slave  in  the  rich  livery  of  the  De  Mirecourts  stood 
behind  every  chair,  in  seeming,  an  automaton  of 
ebony,  moved  only  by  the  will  of  him  whom  he  was 
appointed  to  serve.  A  white  Major  Domo,  in  plain 
clothes,  stood  by  the  temporary  sideboard  to  antici 
pate  the  slightest  wish,  and  to  prevent  the  labor  of 
its  utterance.  Nothing  that  wealth  could  summon 


278  TWO  NIGHTS  IN   ST.  DOMINGO. 

from  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe,  to  heighten  or 
add  a  poignancy  to  luxury,  was  absent  from  that 
splendid  banquet. 

And  the  circle  for  which  it  was  furnished  forth 
was  not  unworthy  of  the  magic  feast.  Besides  the 
Marquis  and  his  beautiful  daughter,  there  was  Ma 
dame  de  Mirecourt,  a  beauty  somewhat  past  her  prime, 
who  had  superinduced  an  affectation  of  French  viva 
city  upon  her  native  Creole  apathy  and  indolence. 
Here  was  the  Abbe  de  Valnais,  of  whom  honorable 
mention  has  already  been  made,  and  the  Chevalier 
de  Tillemont,  who  had  served  with  distinction  in 
America  under  Eochambeau,  and  now  commanded 
one  of  the  regiments  at  Cape  Francois,  with  the  Cross 
of  St.  Louis  suspended  from  his  button-hole.  A 
cadet  of  a  noble  family  in  France,  who  was  attached 
to  the  general  government  of  the  island,  at  that 
time  swayed  by  M.  de  Blanchelande ;  a  wealthy 
planter  and  his  Parisian  wife,  who  were  on  a  short 
visit  at  Plessis  ;  and  the  American  Vincent,  to  whom 
the  knowledge  of  these  particulars  is  due  —  made  up 
the  rest  of  the  party.  All  were  in  the  highest  spirits. 
The  national  festivity  of  spirits,  relieved  for  the  time 
from  the  anxieties  caused  by  the  progress  of  the  Rev 
olution  at  home,  and  the  sympathetic  excitement 
of  the  colonial  extremities  of  the  French  monarchy, 
which  had  checked  its  genial  current,  gushed  forth  with 
the  joyousness  of  a  fountain  leaping  from  its  cavern. 
Exile  and  impoverishment,  and  blighted  prospects, 
and  disappointed  hopes,  and  homesick  yearnings, 


TWO  NIGHTS  IN   ST.   DOMIXGO.  279 

were  all  forgotten.  The  magic  of  the  present  hour 
triumphed  over  them  all.  The  troubles  in  France 
and  in  St.  Domingo  would  soon  be  over,  and  the  old 
regime  virtually  restored.  The  fierce  populace  of 
Paris,  and  their  humble  rivals  in  the  Provinces  and 
Colonies,  would  soon  be  reduced  to  their  natural  po 
sition,  —  under  the  feet  of  the  noblesse.  It  was  as 
absurd  to  suppose  that  the  sans-culottes  at  home  could 
permanently  lord  it  over  their  birthright  masters,  a§ 
it  would  be  to  suppose  the  negro  slaves  capable  of 
maintaining  an  ascendency  over  their  natural  lords. 
A  sudden  tempest  had  disturbed  the  elements  of 
society ;  but,  as  soon  as  it  was  blown  over,  things 
would  find  their  natural  level  again. 

Ah !  there  were  gay  visions  seen  through  that 
convivial  atmosphere  that  night.  The  Abbe*  beheld 
in  the  brilliant  distance  a  mitre,  perhaps  a  cardinal's 
hat;  and  there  were  some  dim  images  that  looked 
like  Mazarin  and  Eichelieu.  A  marshal's  baton 
danced  before  the  eyes  of  the  chevalier.  The  Mar 
quis  saw  himself  restored  to  all  his  baronial  rights 
and  enormous  rents ;  while  the  opera,  the  Comedie 
Franchise,  the  masquerades  and  balls  of  dear  Paris, 
once  more  seemed  within  the  reach  of  Madame  de 
Mirecourt  and  her  daughter.  As  to  the  rich  planter, 
he  saw  armies  of  negroes,  and  mountains  of  sugar, 
which  were  to  help  him  to  a  speedy  return  to  France, 
and  perhaps  to  a  patent  of  nobility.  The  young 
American,  I  fear,  had  no  more  gorgeous  or  chivalric 
imaginings  than  of  heavy  commissions,  great  profits, 


280  TWO  NIGHTS  IN   ST.   DOMINGO. 

cent  per  cent,  the  largest  house  in  Boston,  and  the 
neatest  villa  in  its  neighborhood. 

It  was  a  night,  too,  to  be  remembered  for  itself, 
divested  of  the  tragic  interest  with  which  a  few  hours 
invested  it.  The  absurdities  and  awkwardnesses  of 
the  new  men  who  had  taken  the  place  of  the  old 
nobility  in  the  direction  of  affairs,  and  the  comic 
situations  into  which  their  ignorance  of  the  conven 
tions  of  society  betrayed  them,  afforded  fertile  themes 
for  the  gay  wit  and  playful  raillery  of  the  Abbe,  and 
for  the  bitter  sarcasms  of  the  Marquis.  The  politics 
of  the  theatre  and  of  the  ballet  were  discussed  with  a 
seriousness  which  those  of  the  Revolution  could  not 
command.  Literature,  and  the  quarrels  and  pri 
vate  history  of  the  world  of  letters,  were  suggestive 
themes  to  men  who  had  sat  at  the  tables  of  D'Hol- 
bach  and  De  Geoffrin  and  Du  Deffand,  and  who 
remembered  Voltaire  and  Rousseau  and  D'Alem- 
bert  and  Diderot.  Scandal,  too,  lent  its  wings  to 
hasten  on  the  hours,  and  the  Queen  of  the  Antilles 
witnessed  that  night  the  death  of  many  a  Parisian 
reputation.  The  crowning  satisfaction,  however,  of 
their  Epicurean  philosophy,  to  which  they  often  re 
curred  with  new  glee,  was  their  happy  removal  from 
the  disturbed  heart  of  the  kingdom  to  a  spot  whence 
they  could  watch  its  mighty  pulsations  in  safety  and 
peace.  Here,  at  least,  they  might  live  without  dan 
ger  from  the  slavish  mass,  which  must,  in  all  civ 
ilized  countries,  form  the  groundwork  of  society.  The 
quarrels  which  had  distracted  the  Colony  had  arisen 


TWO  NIGHTS  IN  ST.   DOMINGO.  281 

from  the  struggles  of  the  superior  classes  alone  for 
the  mastery.  All  classes  looked  with  equal  contempt 
and  certainty  upon  the  submissive  deportment  of  the 
slaves,  whose  toil  supplied  them  with  their  wealth. 
Strong  in  this  security,  they  enjoyed  a  "  Lucretian 
pleasure  "  in  standing  in  safety  upon  the  shore,  and 
seeing  the  barks  of  others  buffeted  about  by  the  tem 
pest,  or  sink  foundering  in  the  billows.  M.  de  Mire- 
court  felt  and  said  that  he  could  not  feel  as  if  all 
were  lost,  even  if  he  never  recovered  his  confiscated 
estates  in  France,  so  long  as  a  thousand  negroes  ex 
torted  from  the  soil  of  Plessis  half  a  million  of  livres 
every  year,  and  emptied  them  into  his  coffers.  With 
such  an  income,  life  might  be  endured  for  a  time, 
even  in  that  banishment.  All  were  blest  in  the 
consciousness  of  present  security  and  the  confident 
expectation  of  future  good.  Gay  wit,  light  laughter, 
and  rosy  hopes,  all  helped  to  chase  the  hours  of  that 
genial  night. 

But  the  most  genial  of  nights  must  have  an  end 
at  last,  and  the  most  perfect  of  suppers  cannot  en 
dure  forever.  At  length  the  party  separated,  at  an 
hour  when  the  Southern  Cross,  quenching  its  radiance 
in  the  Atlantic  waves,  told  that  the  morning  was  at 
hand  of  a  day  ever  memorable  in  the  history  of  man 
kind.  They  all  dispersed  "  in  measureless  content," 
weary  with  mirth,  and  tired  with  revelry,  little  dream 
ing  that  sleep  would  be  that  night,  for  the  last  time, 
a  visitant  to  the  princely  Habitation  du  Plessis.  All 
retired,  and  all  slept,  except  the  American  Vincent. 


282  TWO  NIGHTS  IN   ST.  DOMINGO. 

The  excitement  of  a  scene  so  new  to  him  drove  sleep 
from  his  eyes,  and  after  attempting  for  an  hour  or 
two  to  "banish  from  his  mind  the  beaming  faces,  gay 
voices,  and  ringing  laughter  of  the  last  few  hours,  he 
rose,  and  in  his  robe  de  chambre  walked  forth  upon 
the  terrace  on  which  the  house  was  built.  The  moon 
had  set,  and  a  world  of  new  constellations  glittered 
gloriously  above  his  head  in  a  firmament  of  the 
blackest  blue.  The  thousand  voices  of  a  tropical 
night  still  maintained  their  eternal  concert.  The 
vast  masses  of  vegetation  which  covered  the  moun 
tain-sides,  and  which  were  to  be  dimly  descried 
through  the  night  in  the  nearer  distance,  seemed  to 
be  clothed  with  the  very  blackness  of  darkness,  gilded, 
indeed,  by  the  flashing  light  of  innumerable  fireflies. 
It  was  a  scene  of  peace  and  coolness  which  soon 
quieted  Vincent's  excited  brain. 

As  he  turned  to  seek  his  apartment  again,  he  heard 
the  conch  sound  in  the  distance,  summoning  the 
field  slaves  to  their  daily  toil.  He  knew  then  that 
sunrise  was  near,  and  he  waited  to  look  upon  its 
glories.  He  had  not  gazed  into  the  night  long,  before 
the  sun  vaulted,  as  it  were,  from  the  eastern  waves, 
"  and  that  moment  all  was  light."  The  darkness  fled 
away,  like  a  fiend  before  the  rebuke  of  an  angel,  and 
all  the  landscape  was  bathed  in  the  rejoicing  beams. 
From  the  height  on  which  he  stood,  the  vast  planta 
tions  of  the  plain  of  the  Cape  seemed  like  fairy- 
gardens.  No  portion  of  the  soil  was  left  neglected. 
The  soft  green  of  the  canefields  and  of  the  Guinea- 


TWO  NIGHTS  IN  ST.  DOMINGO.  283 

grass  beautifully  contrasted  with  the  darker  hues  of 
the  coffee-plantations,  and  of  the  overarching  trees 
that  sheltered  them  from  the  scorching  heat,  look 
ing  like  graceful  columns  supporting  a  canopy  of  ver 
dure.  The  mountains,  feathering  to  the  top  with 
their  forests  of  enormous  trees,  reared  themselves  in 
a  thousand  shapes  of  beauty,  while  endless  varieties 
of  light  aud  shade  played  over  their  surface.  In  the 
far  distance  might  be  discerned  the  smoke,  curling 
upwards  from  the  city  of  the  Cape ;  and  farther  yet, 
the  amethyst  and  emerald  sea,  with  here  and  there 
a  white  sail  gliding  over  its  surface,  like  blessed 
spirits  floating  over  a  lake  in  Paradise.  And  pres 
ently  the  long  lines  of  slaves  were  seen  winding  their 
way  to  their  appointed  task,  each  division  driven 
by  an  overseer,  a  long-lashed  whip  under  his  arm, 
with  which  he  would  ever  and  anon  urge  his  lagging 
herd  to  a  brisker  pace.  The  almost  naked  forms  of 
the  negroes  as  they  dispersed  themselves  over  the 
canefields,  and  the  loose  white  linen  dress  and  over 
shadowing  hat  of  the  overseers,  beheld  from  that  dis 
tance,  and  in  the  midst  of  that  tropical  landscape, 
seemed  to  a  stranger's  eye  like  a  scene  from  the 
Arabian  Nights.  As  Vincent  gazed  upon  it,  he  felt 
no  forebodings  of  a  coming  woe.  There  were  no 
signs  in  the  air  of  that  lovely  day,  that  told  of  the 
dread  Nemesis  that  brooded  over  the  fated  island  to 
avenge  the  hoarded  wrongs  of  bloody  centuries.  No 
earthquake  heralded  the  downfall  of  the  white  race. 
No  tornado  shadowed  forth  the  approaching  tempest. 


284  TWO  NIGHTS  IN  ST.   DOMINGO. 

All  was  bright  and  fair  and  calm  on  that  last  morn 
ing  of  slavery. 

There  was  to  be  a  state  dinner-party  at  Plessis 
on  the  23d  of  August.  Several  of  the  neighboring 
planters  had  been  invited  to  meet  the  distinguished 
guests  who  enjoyed  its  hospitality.  This  is  a  serious 
matter  anywhere  and  at  any  time,  but  especially 
beneath  an  August  sun,  between  the  tropics.  The 
guests  had  retired  to  their  apartments  to  endure  the 
tortures  of  a  Parisian  toilet  within  twenty  degrees 
of  the  equator.  Madame  de  Mirecourt  sat  listlessly 
in  her  dressing-room,  bewailing  in  that  sacred  retreat 
the  ungenerous  hostility  of  the  climate  to  rouge, 
while  its  inroads  upon  the  complexion  made  such 
foreign  aid  the  more  important,  when  the  door 
opened,  and  Stephanie,  her  own  woman,  hastily  en 
tered  the  apartment.  Madame  de  Mirecourt  won 
dered,  as  much  as  her  apathetic  habits  would  admit 
of  such  an  emotion,  at  her  unsummoned  appear 
ance  ;  but  then  Stephanie  was  her  foster-sister,  and 
had  lived  with  her  in  France,  and  in  a  humble 
way  shared  her  education,  and  might  be  permitted 
liberties  which  could  not  pass  unpunished  in  any 
other  slave.  The  surprise  of  the  mistress  was  in 
creased,  when  the  slave  cautiously  opened  all  the 
doors  that  led  out  of  the  room,  as  if  to  ascertain 
that  no  one  was  listening,  and  then  placed  herself 
before  her. 

"  What  does  all  this  mean,  Stephanie  ? "  drawled 


TWO  NIGHTS  IN  ST.  DOMINGO.  285 

out  Madame  de  Mirecourt,  "  My  indulgence  has 
bounds  —  and  Le  Fronde  has  a  whip  ! " 

"It  means,"  replied  Stephanie  in  a  low  voice,  "that 
the  time  has  come  when  the  accursed  Le  Fronde's 
whip  will  be  broken,  and  when  he  will  taste  some  of 
his  own  infernal  cruelties  himself,  and  know  how 
sweet  they  are." 

"  You  forget  yourself,  Stephanie,"  replied  her  mis 
tress.  "  You  have  been  brought  up  too  tenderly.  You 
have  heard  of  the  proverb  that  speaks  of  the  insolence 
of  an  unwhipped  slave  ? " 

"  It  is  to  that  tenderness  of  which  you  speak,  ma- 
dame,"  replied  Stephanie,  "that  foolish  tenderness, 
that  you  will  owe  your  life,  if  indeed  it  can  yet  be 
saved.  It  is  an  unwhipped  slave  that  would  save 
you  and  yours  a  faint  taste  of  those  horrors  which 
your  race  has  so  long  heaped  upon  mine." 

"  Just  Heaven ! "  exclaimed  the  Marchioness,  star 
tled  out  of  her  apathy.  "  What  is  it  you  mean  ? " 

"I  mean,"  solemnly  answered  Stephanie,  "that 
Heaven  is  just ;  that  the  day  of  my  people's  deliv 
erance  is  come ;  that  this  night  the  whole  plain 
of  the  Cape  will  be  filled  with  fire  and  blood,  —  a 
slight  atonement  for  centuries  of  outrage !  The  in 
surrection,  thank  God !  is  so  well  matured  that  fail 
ure  is  impossible.  And  now  it  is  my  folly  to  wish 
to  save  you  for  your  selfish  kindness  to  me.  And 
yet"  — 

"  0  God  !  my  daughter  !  "  exclaimed  the  agonized 
mother ;  for  there  was  that  in  the  tone  and  looks  of 


286  TWO  NIGHTS  IN  ST.   DOMINGO. 

Stephanie  which  forbade  her  to  question  the  truth  of 
her  words.     "  Oh,  save  her !  save  her  ! " 

"  Command  yourself,  madame,"  replied  the  slave, 
"  and  you  may  both  be  saved ;  but  it  will  depend 
entirely  on  your  control  of  yourself." 

"  0  Stephanie,  Stephanie  ! "  exclaimed  the  hum 
bled  mistress,  throwing  herself  at  the  feet  of  her 
slave,  and  embracing  her  knees  in  an  agony  of  de 
spair.  "  Eemember  all  you  owe  to  me !  Eecollect  my 
kindness,  my  indulgence,  from  the  day  when  we  had 
but  one  mother  ! " 

"Yes,"  answered  Stephanie  bitterly  —  "yes,  I  re 
member  that  you  treated  me  like  a  petted  lap-dog  or 
a  tame  paroquet  And  yet  I  do  owe  you  more  than 
you  imagine ;  for,  had  it  not  been  for  the  lessons 
you  permitted  me  to  receive  in  the  Convent  of  St. 
Agnes,  this  holy  insurrection  could  never  have  been 
so  secretly  and  yet  so  surely  planned  as  to  be  cer 
tainly  triumphant.  But  rise,  madame  :  that  is  a  pos 
ture  never  again  to  be  assumed  by  one  mortal  to 
another  in  St.  Domingo." 

"Not  till  you  have  promised  me  to  defeat  this 
dreadful  rebellion,"  cried  Madame  de  Mirecourt,  still 
clinging  to  Stephanie.  "  You  shall  have  your  free 
dom  ;  you  shall  have  wealth  such  as  none  of  your 
caste  ever  dreamed  of  possessing;  you  shall  be  hon 
ored  forever  as  the  savior  of  the  white  race,  if  you 
will  but  delay  it  till  troops  can  be  brought  hither 
from  the  Cape." 

"  My  freedom  ! "  replied  Stephanie  scornfully.     "  I 


TWO   NIGHTS  IN  ST.   DOMINGO.  287 

thank  you,  madame ;  but  I  mean  to  take  that  myself 
without  the  leave  of  any  earthly  being.  As  to  delay 
ing  the  sacrifice,  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  do  it ;  but, 
if  it  were,  not  all  the  wealth  of  France  would  induce 
me  to  defer  it  a  moment  when  it  is  ready  to  be 
offered." 

"Then  I  will  do  it  myself,"  exclaimed  the  Mar 
chioness,  starting  to  her  feet,  and  making  a  move 
ment  towards  the  door. 

"Stay,  madame,"  said  Stephanie  calmly,  and  de 
taining  her  mistress  with  a  grasp  not  to  be  resisted. 
"  You  will  but  hasten  the  catastrophe  by  such  mad 
ness.  The  first  peal  of  the  alarm-bell,  —  the  first 
shriek  that  will  tell  that  all  is  known,  —  and  in  five 
minutes  twenty  knives  will  be  in  the  heart  of  every 
white  man  on  the  estate,  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
the  flames  of  Plessis  will  tell  to  the  whole  plain  that 
the  hour  is  come.  As  to  the  women,"  she  continued, 
partly  unsheathing  a  knife  concealed  in  her  bosom, 
"  I  shall  take  care,  in  such  case,  to  save  you  and 
mademoiselle  from  the  terrible  vengeance  which  I 
fear  the  husbands,  fathers,  and  brothers  of  the  out 
raged  slave-women  will  wreak  on  the  wives,  daugh 
ters,  and  sisters  of  their  tyrants." 

"  O  God ! "  exclaimed  the  distracted  Marchioness, 
sinking,  half-fainting,  upon  a  couch,  "what  is  to  be 
done?" 

"  Leave  that  to  me,  inadarne,"  said  Stephanie  :  "your 
part  is  to  appear  below  as  if  all  were  well.  After  you 
are  dressed,  I  shall  see  M.  le  Marquis,  and  concert  my 


288  TWO  NIGHTS  IN  ST.   DOMINGO. 

plan  with  him.  Remember  that  all  depends  on  your 
playing  your  part  well,  so  that  no  suspicion  may  be 
awakened  in  the  minds  of  the  slaves  behind  your 
chairs.  For  I  need  not  say  that  suspicion  would  be 
instant  death.  And  now,  madame,  to  your  toilet." 

And  never  since  Stephanie  had  performed  those 
offices  about  the  person  of  her  mistress  did  she  dis 
charge  them  more  accurately  than  on  that  last  day 
of  her  servitude.  Madame  de  Mirecourt,  half-stunned, 
and  feeling  the  power  of  a  strong  mind  over  a  weaker 
one,  yielded  herself  implicitly  to  the  hands  of  her 
slave,  and  promised  to  obey  her  directions  in  all 
points.  She  wore  her  diamonds,  at  the  instance  of 
Stephanie,  and  concealed  other  valuable  jewels  about 
her  person. 

"  These  would  have  been  mine,"  said  Stephanie. 
"  But  no  matter :  you  will  need  them  more  than  I  in 
the  strange  land  whither  you  must  go."  Madame  de 
Mirecourt  shuddered  at  the  idea  of  poverty  and  exile ; 
but  nearer  and  worse  dangers  soon  drove  it  from  her 
mind.  Heavens !  What  a  toilet  was  that ! 

It  was  a  princely  banquet  that  graced  the  great 
dining-room  at  Plessis  that  day,  but  as  dreadful  to 
some  of  those  that  sat  around  the  board  as  was  the 
Egyptian  feast  to  the  novice,  when  the  falling  rose- 
wreath  disclosed  to  him  the  grim  features  of  his 
skeleton  companion.  M.  de  Mirecourt  had  man 
aged  to  inform  all  the  gentlemen  of  his  household 
guests  of  their  danger,  and  of  his  plan  of  escape. 


TWO  NIGHTS  IN  ST.   DOMINGO.  289 

The  circumstances  with  which  Stephanie  had  con 
firmed  her  etory  had  put  the  matter  beyond  a  doubt. 
Nothing  remained  for  them  but  to  save  their  lives 
by  flight,  according  to  the  plan  she  pointed  out.  And 
there  they  sat  in  full  dress  around  the  splendid 
table,  with  this  dreadful  secret  weighing  upon  their 
hearts,  playing  the  part  of  gay  revellers !  Ah,  it 
was  a  ghastly  feast!  How  changed  their  hearts 
since  the  merry  hours  of  last  night's  revel !  The 
ancient  story,  of  the  sword  suspended  by  a  single 
hair  over  the  head  of  the  parasite,  as  he  reclined  at 
a  regal  banquet  such  as  was  spread  for  his  tyrant, 
did  but  shadow  forth  the  horrors  of  that  night !  Oh, 
those  interminable  courses !  It  seemed  as  if  they 
would  never  come  to  an  end.  How  "palled  the 
tasteless  meats  and  joyless  wines  !  "  And  then  those 
insufferable  guests  of  the  day,  who  knew  nothing  of 
the  fearful  truth  —  how  they  did  prose !  They  ate 
and  drank  as  if  they  knew  that  it  was  their  last 
dinner,  and  were  resolved  to  make  the  most  of  it. 
They  discussed  the  viands  and  wines  as  if  an  accu 
rate  acquaintance  with  their  virtues  was  the  necessary 
passport  to  paradise.  And  then  they  talked  of  their 
crops  and  their  slaves,  the  annual  loss  by  overwork 
ing  and  necessary  correction,  and  all  the  economics 
of  whipping  and  starving  and  maiming  —  and  this 
to  men  who  knew  that  the  slave  behind  every  chair 
had  a  cane-knife,  sharpened  on  both  sides,  in  his 
bosom!  Human  nature,  even  French  human  na 
ture,  could  not  have  endured  it  much  longer. 
19 


290  TWO   NIGHTS  IN   ST.  DOMINGO. 

At  last  —  and  it  was  an  at  last  —  the  guests  made 
a  move  to  depart,  murmuring  something  of  the  late 
ness  of  the  hour  and  the  distance  they  had  to  go, 
hoping  to  be  pressed  to  stay  with  hospitable  ur 
gency. 

"  Must  you  go,  indeed  ! "  exclaimed  the  Marquis, 
assuming  an  air  of  half-tipsy  jollity.  "Then  we  will 
all  escort  you  a  mile  or  two  on  your  way,  and  drink 
a  parting  bottle  by  the  roadside,  in  the  moonlight." 

The  proposition  was  hailed  by  all,  in  the  secret 
and  out  of  it,  as  a  most  whimsical  and  admirable 
frolic.  The  coaches  were  ordered  round;  and  the 
Chevalier  de  Tillemont  directed  his  horse  to  be 
saddled,  as  better  fitting  his  knightly  character. 
When  the  carriages  came  round,  that  of  the  Marquis 
took  the  lead,  and  was  followed  by  two  others  of  the 
planter  guests.  As  they  were  entering  them,  Vin 
cent  protested  against  being  enclosed  in  any  such 
prison  upon  wheels,  and  declared  his  intention  of 
mounting  the  box,  so  that  he  might  see  the  country 
to  the  more  advantage.  As  the  moon  had  not  yet 
risen,  and  it  was  almost  pitch  dark,  this  was  hailed 
as  an  excellent  jest ;  and  the  Abbe"  also,  in  the  same 
vein,  insisted  upon  mounting  the  box  of  the  carriage 
that  came  next.  M.  de  Tillemont  rode  alongside  of 
the  third. 

In  this  order  they  proceeded  until  they  came  near 
the  place  where  the  two  planters  would  turn  off  from 
the  road  to  Cape  Francois.  Here,  at  a  signal  from  the 
Chevalier,  Vincent  pointed  a  pistol  at  the  head  of 


TWO  NIGHTS  IN  ST.   DOMINGO.  291 

the  coachman  by  whose  side  he  sat,  and  threatened 
him  with  instant  death  unless  he  suffered  himself  to 
be  pinioned  peaceably.  The  Abbe,  at  the  same  mo 
ment,  threw  his  arms  round  those  of  his  neighbor, 
and  confined  them  until  he  could  be  secured ;  while 
the  Chevalier,  mounted  on  a  charger  which  obeyed 
the  least  touch  of  the  foot  or  slightest  word,  with  a 
pistol  in  either  hand,  took  charge  of  the  third  coach 
man  and  of  all  the  footmen,  and  with  the  help  of 
the  attache,  and  of  the  gentleman  who  had  been  a 
visitor  at  Plessis,  succeeded  in  binding  them  all  on 
the  ground  before  they  well  knew  what  had  hap 
pened  to  them.  He  then  briefly  stated  the  exigency 
of  the  case  to  the  planters  who  were  not  in  the 
secret,  and  who  were  scarcely  less  astonished  at  the 
treatment  their  slaves  had  received  than-  they  were 
themselves.  They  were  not  convinced,  however,  of 
the  danger.  Their  contempt  of  the  blacks  supplied 
whatever  might  be  wanting  in  personal  or  moral 
courage,  and  they  persisted  in  proceeding  to  their 
own  homes.  There  was  no  time  for  expostulation : 
so,  after  their  slaves  had  been  disarmed,  they  were 
set  at  liberty,  and  proceeded  with  their  masters 
across  the  plain.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  those 
masters  never  saw  the  light  of  another  sun. 

The  rest  of  the  party  crowded  into  M.  de  Mire- 
court's  carriage,  which  Vincent  undertook  to  drive, 
with  the  exception  of  the  Chevalier,  who,  with  a 
passing  farewell,  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  galloped 
off  at  the  top  of  his  speed  along  the  rough  road  as  it 


292  TWO  NIGHTS  IN  ST.  DOMINGO. 

wound  around  the  side  of  the  mountain ;  the  sparkles 
from  his  horse's  hoofs  marking  his  course  long  after 
he  himself  was  lost  in  the  darkness.  Vincent  was  no 
experienced  whip,  and  was  entirely  unacquainted 
with  the  road ;  so  that  their  progress  seemed  slow  to 
their  excited  fears.  Thus  they  proceeded  through 
the  dark  night,  when  of  a  sudden  a  ruddy  glow  shot 
through  the  air.  They  turned  their  heads,  and  far 
away,  where  it  was  notched  into  the  mountain's  side, 
they  saw  Plessis  one  sheet  of  flame.  It  was  a  beau 
tiful  though  a  fearful  sight ;  but  it  was  one  that  told 
the  Marquis  that  he  was  a  beggar. 

They  were  now  emerging  from  the  mountain-side 
upon  the  plain.  They  had  been  hitherto  unmolested ; 
but  the  number  of  estates  they  would  have  to  pass 
rendered  the  next  two  leagues  of  their  journey  full  of 
danger.  This  was  soon  made  more  clear  to  them  ;  for, 
as  if  they  had  waited  for  the  signal-fire  to  be  kindled 
on  the  height  of  Plessis,  the  whole  plain,  and  the 
sides  of  the  skirting  mountains,  were  lighted  up  with 
a  hundred  conflagrations.  In  the  glare  of  this  fearful 
illumination  they  drove  on  for  a  mile  or  two  farther, 
when  they  came  to  an  estate  the  mansion  of  which 
was  but  a  bowshot  from  the  road.  It  was  just 
wrapped  in  flames,  —  the  negroes  could  be  seen 
dancing  in  mad  mirth  around  it,  —  while  fearful 
shrieks,  such  as  Vincent  remembered  to  have  heard 
ushering  in  the  day  at  l£e  Cape,  and  even  at  Plessis, 
though  now  issuing  from  other  lips,  were  heard  above 
the  roar  of  the  fire  and  the  shouts  of  the  insurgent 


TWO  NIGHTS  IN  ST.   DOMINGO.  293 

slaves.  It  was  soon  plain  that  they  were  perceived, 
and  their  errand  suspected.  They  were  loudly  or 
dered  to  stop ;  and,  when  this  command  was  disre 
garded,  a  company  of  thirty  or  forty  negroes  set  out 
in  full  pursuit.  It  was  a  pastime  that  had  the  charm 
of  novelty  to  the  pursuers.  They  had  some  of  them 
been  the  quarry  of  the  slave-hunt ;  but  they  had  none 
of  them  ever  engaged  before  as  the  hunters  in  the 
chase  of  the  white  man.  Vincent  had  nothing  left 
for  it  but  speed.  He  lashed  the  horses  with  all  his 
strength,  and  gave  them  the  rein.  They  dashed  on 
ward  with  furious  speed,  and  he  hoped  soon  to  leave 
his  pursuers  far  behind.  But  unluckily,  when  in  full 
career,  sweeping  away  over  the  plain,  one  of  the 
horses  fell,  and,  though  he  almost  instantly  recovered 
himself,  the  accident  gave  a  fearful  advantage  to  the 
pursuers. 

Before  Vincent  could  put  up  his  steeds  to  their  full 
speed  again,  it  was  clear  that  the  enemy  were  gaining 
upon  him.  Their  yells  sound  nearer  and  nearer ;  the 
light  of  their  torches  flashes  brighter  and  brighter 
from  behind ;  their  footsteps  fall  more  and  more  nu 
merously  upon  his  ear.  The  taste  they  have  had  of 
the  white  man's  blood  that  night  has  only  maddened, 
not  satisfied,  their  thirst.  They  are  even  now  upon 
him.  Some  seize  the  spokes  of  the  wheels  to  hold 
them  back.  Others  rush  to  the  horses,  and  attempt 
to  hamstring  them,  and  to  cut  the  traces.  Vincent 
has  no  longer  any  control  over  them  as  they  plunge 
and  rear  in  pain  and  terror.  He  gives  up  all  for  lost ; 


294  TWO  NIGHTS  IN  ST.  DOMINGO. 

and  well  he  may,  for  a  more  formidable  band 
never  set  about  a  work  of  death.  Some  bore  in  their 
hands  huge  brands  from  the  burning  house,  which 
they  waved  over  their  heads  ;  some  brandished  their 
cane-knives  in  their  hands;  and  others  had  them 
fastened  to  long  poles.  Some  were  armed  with  axes, 
and  some  with  huge  iron  bars.  Some  were  almost 
naked;  and  others  were  fantastically  dressed  in  the 
rich  damasks  and  brocades  of  their  masters  and  mis 
tresses.  Almost  all  had  blood  on  their  hands  or  on 
their  garments.  They  seemed  like  fiends  who  had 
been  for  a  long  time  subjected  to  the  will  of  a  magi 
cian,  but  who  had  at  length  surmounted  the  charm, 
and  were  enjoying  the  delight  of  torturing  their 
tormentor. 

They  gathered  around  the  coach,  and  their  cry  was 
for  blood.  Vincent  exhorted  the  gentlemen  within 
the  carriage  to  sell  their  lives  as  dearly  as  they  might. 
They  were  only  armed  with  the  short  rapier,  which  at 
that  time  formed  an  indispensable  part  of  full  dress  : 
he  had,  besides,  a  pair  of  pistols.  With  these,  he  at 
tempted  to  keep  the  insurgents  at  bay,  but  with 
brief  success.  Uttering  a  charm  which  they  believed 
a  specific  against  gunshot  wounds,  they  rush  upon 
him,  clambering  in  crowds  upon  the  coach-box.  Oth 
ers  force  open  the  doors  of  the  carriage,  and  are  about 
to  drag  out  the  occupants.  All  seems  to  be  over 
when  a  rushing  sound  is  heard  in  the  distance. 

What  is  it?  The  assailants  pause  for  a  moment 
to  listen.  It  is  surely  the  tread  of  horses'  feet.  It 


TWO  NIGHTS  IN   ST.   DOMINGO.  295 

sweeps  on  nearer  and  nearer.  Can  it  be  possible  ? 
Yes,  it  is  indeed  the  gallant  De  Tillemont,  at  the 
head  of  a  detachment  of  his  regiment,  coming  to 
their  aid  at  their  utmost  need.  They  advance  at 
their  fullest  speed,  —  their  carbines  are  unslung,  — 
they  pour  a  sharp  though  scattering  fire  upon  the 
insurgents,  and  then  charge  upon  them  with  the  sabre. 
The  negroes  had  not  then  learnt  that  they  were  a 
match  for  the  regular  troops  of  France,  and  they 
slowly  and  reluctantly  retired,  and  left  their  prey. 
This  was  indeed  a  deliverance  out  of  the  very  jaws 
of  death.  But  there  was  no  time  for  congratulations 
or  compliments.  They  did  not  know  but  that  a  mul 
titude  to  which  their  force  might  be  unequal  would 
intercept  their  return.  Troop  horses  hastily  supplied 
the  place  of  those  that  the  insurgents  had  wounded, 
and  in  the  shortest  possible  time  they  were  on  their 
rapid  way  to  the  city.  Years  of  sensation  were 
crowded  into  that  hour.  It  was  worth  the  experi 
ence  of  many  a  long  life  to  have  shared  that  brief  but 
fearful  journey  from  Plessis  to  the  Cape.  They  met, 
however,  with  no  further  opposition,  and  entered  the 
city  just  as  the  bell  of  the  cathedral  tolled  twelve. 

They  were  safe  for  the  night;  but  Vincent  was 
sure  that  the  insurrection  would  soon  sweep  over  the 
city.  He  had  a  vessel  in  the  harbor,  under  his  con 
trol,  and  he  determined  to  make  use  of  her  for  his 
escape.  He  offered  a  passage  to  all  his  late  compan 
ions  in  peril.  None  accepted  it  but  M.  and  Madame 


296  TWO  NIGHTS  IN   ST.   DOMINGO. 

de  Mirecourt,  and  their  daughter.  The  rest  all  felt 
safe  under  the  protecting  arm  of  France.  But  many 
months  had  not  elapsed,  before  they  had  all  of  them 
fatal  reason  to  regret  their  confidence.  The  very 
next  day,  Vincent  and  his  late  hosts  set  sail  for 
America ;  and  within  a  fortnight  of  the  day  when 
M.  de  Mirecourt  rejoiced  in  the  possession  of  a  thou 
sand  slaves  and  half  a  million  of  rent,  he  stood  upon 
the  shores  of  New  York  without  a  resource  save  the 
jewels  which  Stephanie  the  slave  had  secreted  about 
the  person  of  her  mistress.  For  a  while  after  his 
return  to  Boston,  Vincent  heard  of  them  often  as 
favorites  in  the  fashionable  circles  of  New  York ;  but 
at  last  they  disappeared,  and  all  his  researches  after 
them  were  in  vain.  Whether  they  returned  to  France, 
and  there  perished  in  the  Days  of  Terror,  or  whether, 
after  their  stock  was  exhausted,  they  carried  their 
poverty  to  some  distant  part  of  America,  where, 
under  a  different  name,  they  could  without  shame 
support  themselves  by  manual  labor,  is  yet  uncertain ; 
and  it  is  not  likely  that  it  will  now  ever  be  known. 
The  latter  fate  was  most  probably  theirs.  It  was  a 
common  one  in  those  days  of  change.  Many  of  the 
proudest  of  the  historical  names  of  France  fled  to 
this  country  at  the  time  of  the  emigration,  and,  after 
shining  a  while  in  this  new  firmament,  set  forever, 
and  were  seen  no  more  below.  Many  an  emigrant 
sunk  a  marquis,  a  viscount,  or  a  chevalier  in  one  city, 
and  rose  a  cook,  a  confectioner,  or  a  hair-dresser  in 
another.  In  that  obscurity  did  many  of  the  noblest 


TWO  NIGHTS  IN  ST.  DOMINGO.  297 

names  of  France  go  out,  and  leave  no  trace  behind. 
Had  Sterne  made  a  sentimental  journey  to  this  coun 
try  fifty  years  ago,  he  might  have  seen  stranger 
sights  than  a  Chevalier  de  St.  Louis  selling  pies  in 
the  streets  of  Versailles.  If  such  were  the  fate  of 
the  Marquis  de  Mirecourt  and  his  family,  we  may  at 
least  hope  that  they  were  happier,  as  they  were  cer 
tainly  more  innocent  and  useful,  in  their  humble 
occupations,  than  when  they  rioted  in  luxuries  wrested 
from  the  unwilling  hands  of  a  thousand  slaves. 

Such  was  the  story  which  Mr.  Vincent  would 'tell 
on  a  winter's  evening  to  his  children  and  his  friends. 
It  has  a  moral,  which  is  not  limited  by  the  scene  nor 
the  actors  of  this  little  drama.  It  exemplifies  the 
operation  of  eternal  and  universal  laws.  It  shows 
that  the  day  of  account  will  surely  come  wherever 
there  is  wrong  or  crime.  Who  knows  what  country 
may  afford  the  next  example  of  this  awful  retribu 
tion!  Nemesis  never  sleeps.  Though  she  is  long- 
suffering,  she  forgets  nothing,  and  overlooks  nothing. 
When  men  have  filled  their  cup  with  blood  and 
cruelties  and  unutterable  abominations,  to  its  brim, 
it  is  that  very  cup  that  she  commends  to  their  own 
lips.  There  is  but  one  Power  of  might  enough  to 
wrest  it  from  her  inexorable  hand,  and  that  Power 

is  PiEPENTANCE. 


PHCEBE    MALLORY. 


PHCEBE   MALLORY;   THE  LAST  OF  THE 
SLAVES. 


"  But  when  returned  the  youth  ?    The  youth  no  more 
Returned  exulting  to  his  native  shore  ; 
But  forty  years  were  past,  and  then  there  came 
A  worn-out  man,  with  withered  limbs  and  lame, 
His  mind  oppressed  with  woes,  and  bent  with  age  his  frame." 

CRABBE. 

I  WAS  once  a  great  pedestrian,  and  have  performed 
feats  in  my  time  which  should  entitle  me  to  a 
respectable  standing,  if  not  an  exalted  rank,  in  the 
sporting  world.  I  used  to  think  little  of  forty  miles 
a  day,  and  have  "made"  my  six  miles  within  the 
hour.  But  all  that  is  over. 

"  It  is  not  now  as  it  hath  been  of  yore." 

Walking  for  its  own  sake,  like  virtue  on  the  same 
terms,  is  but  too  apt  to  be  an  enthusiasm  of  youth. 
I  have  not,  indeed,  entirely  subsided  into  the  opinion 
which  a  gentleman,  recently  deceased,  who  succes 
sively  distinguished  himself  in  the  gay  world,  at  the 
bar,  and  in  the  pulpit,  once  pronounced  ex  cathedra, 
in  my  hearing,  —  that  "  legs  are  given  to  man  only  to 


302  PHCEBE   MALLORY. 

enable  him  to  hold  on  to  a  horse ; "  but  still  a  sober 
ten  miles  satisfies  me  now.  It  will  be  well  for  me 
if  this  be  the  only  good  habit  of  my  youth  from 
which  I  have  fallen  away. 

During  my  days  of  pedestrious  grace  I  resided  in 
Boston,  and  my  walks  made  me  tolerably  familiar 
with  the  beautiful  country  that  environs  it  for  ten 
miles  on  every  side ;  itself  being  ever  the  crowning 
charm  of  the  landscape.  It  is  a  great  advantage 
Boston  possesses  over  most  other  cities,  that  one  can 
almost  immediately  exchange  the  bustle  of  the  streets 
for  some  of  the  most  lovely  and  rural  scenes  in  the 
world.  An  hour's  drive,  or  an  afternoon's  walk,  trans 
ports  you,  as  it  were,  into  the  heart  of  the  country. 
The  winding  country-roads  and  green  lanes,  hedged 
with  barberry-bushes,  might  beguile  you  to  believe 
that  you  were  a  hundred  miles  from  a  great  city, 
were  you  not  continually  tempted  to  turn  and  see 
how  gracefully,  at  airy  distance,  she  seems  to  sit 
upon  her  three  hills,  and  lord  it  over  the  prospect. 

One  fine  autumn  afternoon  about  ten  years  ago, 
when  I  had  been 

"  Wasting  in  woodpaths  the  luxurious  day," 

I  found  myself  on  the  summit  of  one  of  a  chain  of 
hills,  looking  towards  the  city.  And  what  a  prospect 
lay  before  me !  On  my  right  were  hills  covered  with 
woods  clothed  in  the  gorgeous  hues  of  autumn,  look 
ing  like  troops  of  "  shining  ones  "  just  alighted  on 
some  mission  of  mercy;  in  the  middle  distance, 


PHCEBE   MALLORY.  303 

tufted  groves,  village  spires,  farmhouses,  meadows 
dotted  with  cattle,  and  a  brimming  river  sparkling 
in  the  slanting  rays  of  the  sun ;  in  the  distance  the 
city,  relieved  against  the  Blue  Hills  ;  and  on  the  left 
the  noblest  burst  of  ocean,  —  Nahant  breaking  the 
expanse,  with  Egg  Eock  beyond,  and  then  stretching 
leagues  and  leagues  away,  till  it  had  put  a  girdle 
round  the  earth.  It  was  a  noble  prospect. 

After  I  had  feasted  my  eyes  and  heart  on  these 
glorious  apparitions,  I  was  recalled  to  a  sense  of  the 
things  of  earth  by  the  reflection  which  was  forced 
upon  me,  that  I  had  had  no  dinner.  I  accordingly 
marked  from  my  hill-top,  where  all  the  country  lay 
mapped  out  at  my  feet,  the  course  I  would  pursue  on 
my  return  home.  Descending  the  precipitous  face 
of  the  hill,  I  plunged  into 

"An  alley  green, 
With  many  a  bosky  bourne  from  side  to  side," 

which  led  me,  though  somewhat  deviously,  in  the 
direction  of  the  city.  After  I  had  followed  its  wind 
ings  for  some  miles,  I  began  to  wax  thirsty,  and,  to 
say  sooth,  a  little  weary  to  boot.  So  I  looked  about 
me  as  I  walked,  for  some  hospitable  door  at  which, 
though  no  saint,  I  might  ask  for  a  cup  of  cold  water. 

I  pique  myself  on  my  skill  in  the  physiognomy  of 
houses,  and  it  is  not  at  every  door,  any  more  than 
of  every  man,  that  I  would  ask  a  favor.  Accordingly 
I  passed  by  several  houses  of  some  pretensions,  but 
which  had  to  my  eye  an  ill-favored  and  ill-condi- 


304  PHCEBE  MALLORY. 

tioned  expression,  and  passed  onward  till  I  came  to 
one  that  I  thought  might  answer  my  purpose.  It  had 
not  much  to  recommend  it  in  its  exterior.  It  was  a 
cottage  of  the  very  humblest  description,  the  walls 
of  bare  boards,  blackened  with  age;  but  yet  there 
was  something  about  it  that  made  my  heart  warm 
towards  it.  It  stood  a  little  withdrawn  from  the 
road,  and  the  grass  grew  green  up  to  the  broad  flag 
stone,  half  sunk  into  the  earth,  which  served  for  its 
door-stone.  There  was  no  litter  or  dirt  about  the 
door ;  the  windows  were  all  whole  ;  and  there  was  a 
general  air  of  neatness  about  it  which  showed  that 
the  poverty  of  the  inhabitant  was  at  least  not 
sordid. 

It  had  a  promising  look,  and  I  knocked  at  the  door. 
It  was  opened,  after  a  short  interval,  by  an  "  old,  old  " 
woman,  as  black  as  jet,  slightly  bent  by  age,  and  lean 
ing  upon  a  staff.  Though  not  expecting  to  see  a 
person  of  color,  I  was  pleased  to  find,  that,  as  far  as  I 
could  judge  from  her  appearance,  I  had  not  been  de 
ceived  by  the  lineaments  of  her  habitation.  Her  dress 
was  of  the  coarsest  materials;  but  the  snowy  whiteness 
of  her  cap  and  handkerchief,  and  the  scrupulous  clean 
liness  of  her  checked  gown,  proved  the  presence  of  that 
virtue  which  is  said,  on  high  authority,  to  be  akin  to 
godliness.  She  received  me  with  the  kindliness  and 
good-nature  which  mark  her  race,  and,  upon  making 
my  necessities  known,  she  cordially  invited  me  to 
walk  in.  This  I  did,  nothing  loath ;  and,  while  my 
hostess  was  selecting  the  best  of  her  three  mugs  for 


PHCEBE   MALLORY.  305 

my  service,  I  seated  myself,  at  her  pressing  instance, 
in  one  of  her  two  flag-bottomed  chairs,  and  took  a 
survey  of  the  premises. 

They  were  rough  aud  bare  enough,  God  knows, 
but  still  were  not  without  that  air  of  comfort  which 
thorough  neatness  and  good  order  can  give  to  the 
humblest  dwelling.  Her  house  could  boast  of  but 
one  apartment ;  but  that  was  sufficient  for  her  pur 
poses.  A  bed,  two  chairs,  an  invalided  table,  and  a 
pine  chest  made  up  the  sum  of  her  furniture.  The 
walls  could  boast  of  no  decoration  except  a  print,  over 
the  head  of  the  bed,  of  the  capture  of  Andre,  in  which 
the  cow-boy  militiamen  were  looking  most  truculently 
virtuous  as  Andre  tempted  their  Koman  firmness  with 
a  watch  of  the  size  of  a  small  warming-pan.  The  floor 
was  well  scrubbed  and  sanded ;  and  some  peat  embers 
smouldered  upon  the  hearth.  After  I  had  slaked  my 
thirst  with  some  delicious  water,  of  which  she  was 
justly  proud,  —  all  cold  and  sparkling  from  the  open 
well,  ministered  unto  by  the  picturesque  puritanic 
well-pole,  —  she  resumed  her  chair  and  her  knitting ; 
and  as  I  rested  myself  I  entered  into  conversation 
with  her. 

She  seemed  pleased  with  the  interest  I  felt  in  her 
affairs,  and  simply  and  frankly  told  me  all  she  had  to 
tell  about  herself  and  her  way  of  life.  She  had  lived 
on  that  spot  for  many  years,  and  had  mainly  depended 
upon  her  skill  as  a  laundress  for  her  subsistence.  As 
she  had  grown  old,  however,  and  the  infirmities  of  age 
began  to  press  heavily  upon  her,  she  confined  herself 
20 


306  PHCEBE  MALLORY. 

to  the  nicer  branches  of  her  profession ;  for  the  exer 
cise  of  which  the  ladies  of  the  neighborhood  supplied 
her  with  ample  materials.  Whatever  deficiency  there 
might  be  in  her  means  of  comfort,  after  she  had  done 
her  best  to  provide  them,  was  cheerfully  made  up  to 
her  by  the  kindness  of  her  neighbors ;  for,  to  do  them 
justice,  neglect  of  the  poor,  black  or  white,  at  their 
own  doors,  is  not  one  of  the  vices  of  the  people  of 
New  England.  She  seemed  to  be  very  well  satis 
fied  with  her  share  of  the  good  things  of  this  life,  and 
evinced  a  degree  of  unaffected  contentment  which  is 
not  always  seen  to  accompany  a  much  higher  degree 
of  prosperity.  I  was  greatly  interested  in  her  char 
acter  and  history,  and  never  walked  in  that  direction 
again  without  calling  to  see  her.  In  the  course  of  my 
acquaintance  with  her,  I  learned  at  different  times 
the  simple  incidents  of  her  story,  which  I  am  about 
to  relate.  They  seemed  to  me,  when  I  heard  them, 
to  be  worth  the  telling ;  but  I  am  by  no  means  sure 
that  anybody  else  will  be  of  the  same  opinion.  Such 
as  they  are,  however,  you  have  them  here. 

Phoebe  was  born  somewhere  about  the  middle  of 
the  last  century,  in  the  family  of  the  Honorable  James 
Mallory,  for  many  years  one  of  his  Majesty's  Council 
for  the  Province  of  Massachusetts  Bay.  He  used  to 
live  in  that  fine  old  house  with  the  Corinthian  pilas 
ters,  and  the  magnificent  lime-trees  in  the  courtyard, 
which  stood  on  your  left  hand  as  you  went  down 
King  Street  towards  Long  Wharf.  It  vanished  years 


PHCEBE   MALLORY.  307 

ago,  and  gave  place  to  one  of  the  granite  temples  of 
Mammon  which  have  long  since  thrust  from  their 
neighborhood  all  human  habitation.  There  was 
Phoebe  born.  Her  father  and  mother  were  both  of 
them  native  Africans,  who  had  lived  out  all  their 
life  of  servitude  under  the  roof  of  Mr.  Mallory.  They 
were  fortunate  in  falling  into  such  good  hands.  The 
few  New  England  slaves  were  mostly  owned  by  the 
wealthy  families,  and  were  chiefly  employed  as  house- 
servants,  and  their  treatment  was  at  least  as  good  as 
that  of  the  same  class  in  any  country.  But,  Phoebe 
said,  nothing  could  prevent  her  father  from  remem 
bering  the  day,  when,  as  he  was  hunting  the  hippo 
potamus  in  the  sacred  river  that  flowed  by  his  hut, 
just  as  he  leaped  from  his  iron-wood  canoe  to  draw 
the  monster  ashore  by  the  line  fastened  to  his  spear, 
a  party  of  a  hostile  tribe  rushed  from  among  the 
reeds,  and  hurried  him  to  the  seacoast,  fifty  miles 
away,  and  there  sold  him  to  a  Bristol  trader.  To  be 
sure,  he  had  obtained  civilization  and  Christianity  by 
his  involuntary  emigration ;  but  —  as  the  one  appeared 
to  his  half-savage  mind  to  consist  in  wearing  clothes, 
and  cleaning  another  man's  shoes ;  and  the  other  in 
sleeping  on  his  knees  through  family  prayers,  and  in 
being  obliged  to  listen,  from  the  gallery  of  the  Old 
South  Church,  for  several  hours  every  Sunday,  to 
sermons  which  he  could  never  have  comprehended, 
delivered  in  a  tongue  he  very  imperfectly  understood 
— he  must  not  be  blamed  as  ungrateful,  if  he  thought 
them  but  inadequate  compensations  for  the  exchange 


308  PHCEBE   MALLOEY. 

he  had  made  of  the  sunny  skies  and  golden  sands  of 
Africa  for  the  leaden  firmament  and  rocky  coast  of 
New  England. 

Phoebe  was  more  fortunate  than  her  parents  in 
being  "native,  and  to  the  manner  born;"  so  that 
her  lot  was  much  more  tolerable  than  theirs.  She 
was  kindly  treated,  and  taught  to  read  and  write. 
She  felt  all  the  strong  attachment  of  the  African 
race  to  the  house  in  which  she  was  born  and  to  the 
family  which  had  brought  her  up.  To  the  end  of 
her  days  she  believed  that  there  was  never  a  house 
that  equalled  in  magnificence  that  of  Mr.  Mallory 
in  King  Street.  There  was  never  anything  half  so 
graceful  and  dignified  as  the  manners  of  Mr.  Mallory 
himself,  or  half  so  beautiful  and  accomplished  as  the 
daughters,  or  so  handsome  and  good-natured  as 
the  sons,  of  his  house.  Many  were  the  Old- World 
stories  she  told  me  of  the  loves  and  the  feuds  of 
that  generation,  —  of  their  joys  and  their  griefs, 
of  their  festivities  and  their  funerals.  A  petted 
slave,  brought  up  from  infancy  in  one  of  the  fore 
most  families  of  a  small  community  such  as  Boston 
was  then,  she  became  a  perfect  incarnation  of  all 
the  gossip  and  scandal  of  that  little  world.  And 
some  very  choice  bits  of  both  I  extracted  from  her, 
I  assure  you.  She  certainly  had  no  artistic  skill  in 
her  narrations,  and  yet  there  was  a  life  in  the  very 
simplicity  with  which  she  related  facts,  which  painted 
them  vividly  to  the  mind's  eye ;  and  I  think  I  have 
a  clearer  notion  of  the  way  in  which  people  lived  in 


PHOEBE   MALLORY.  309 

Boston  eighty  years  since,  from  them  than  from  more 
generally  recognized  authorities. 

Her  admiration,  however,  was  not  entirely  monopo 
lized  by  the  higher  powers  of  the  family.  There  was 
a  certain  Ambrose,  who  had  also  been  born  in  the 
house  a  few  years  before  Phrebe,  and  had  been 
brought  up  along  with  her,  who  claimed  his  share. 
They  had  played  together  as  children,  and  worked  to 
gether  when  they  grew  older,  and  it  will  not  surprise 
the  experienced  reader  to  hear  that  they  fell  in  love 
with  each  other  as  soon  as  they  were  old  enough  to 
take  the  infection.  Ambrose  was  a  fine,  well-made, 
athletic  young  fellow,  shrewd  and  capable,  and  of 
the  most  imperturbable  good-humor.  His  skill  in 
music  was  such  that  he  was  often  summoned  to  the 
parlor,  with  his  violin,  to  excite  the  dance  when  his 
young  masters  and  mistresses  had  their  friends  with 
them.  Both  Ambrose  and  Phrcbe  were  great  favor 
ites  with  the  whole  family,  —  old  and  young,  bond 
and  free,  —  and  their  loves  were  looked  upon  by  all 
with  complacent  eyes.  They  formed  a  little  under 
plot  in  the  domestic  drama,  which  was  not  unainusing 
or  uninteresting  to  the  actors  or  actresses  in  similar 
scenes  above  stairs.  Their  true  love  flowed  smoothly 
on,  and  it  seemed  as  if  no  obstacles  could  be  inter 
posed  to  disturb  its  course.  It  was  a  conceded  thing 
that  at  some  convenient  season  Ambrose  and  Phoebe 
were  to  be  married. 

While  the  affairs  of  the  humble  lovers  were  in  this 
prosperous  train,  great  events  were  at  the  door.  The 


310  PHCEBE   MALLORY. 

signs  which  prognosticate  a  coming  storm  were  fre 
quent  and  menacing.  Voices  were  heard  in  the  air, 
telling  of  disaster  and  woe  to  come.  Portents  were 
seen  in  the  political  firmament, 

"  With  fear  of  change 
Perplexing  monarchs. " 

It  was  obvious  to  all  discerning  persons  who  were 
willing  to  see,  that  great  changes  were  at  hand.  Mr. 
Mallory  was  a  Tory,  as  might  be  expected  from  his 
official  station  and  position  in  society.  Like  many 
others  of  his  way  of  thinking,  he  exaggerated  the 
power  of  the  British  king  to  suppress  disaffection, 
and  undervalued  the  powers  of  resistance  of  the 
colonists.  Though  he  had  never  permitted  himself 
to  doubt  that  the  fever-fit  of  the  Province  would 
soon  pass  away,  still  his  position  was  sufficiently 
disagreeable  while  it  lasted.  He  had  made  him 
self  obnoxious  to  the  popular  party,  and  his  situa 
tion  was  at  times  worse  than  disagreeable  :  it  was 
absolutely  unsafe.  Phoebe  described  to  me  the 
night  when  the  mob,  flushed  by  the  impunity  which 
had  attended  their  previous  excesses,  came  trooping 
down  King  Street  to  execute  summary  justice  on 
the  Tory  Mallory.  Their  approach  was  so  sudden, 
that  the  family  had  barely  time  to  escape  as  they 
were,  through  the  garden,  leaving  the  candles  burn 
ing,  and  the  work-boxes  and  books  open  on  the  table, 
as  they  fled. 

Mr.  Mallory's  house  would  probably  have  shared 


PHCEBE   MALLORY.  311 

the  fate  of  Governor  Hutchinson's,  had  it  not  been 
for  a  singular  and  unexpected  diversion.  When  the 
inob  was  gathering  in  the  street  in  front  of  the  house, 
and  preparing  for  the  assault,  the  hall-door  opened 
suddenly ;  and  Ambrose,  like  a  new  Orpheus,  issued 
from  it  with  his  violin  in  his  hand.  He  immediately 
struck  up  a  lively  air,  and  the  effect  was  magical. 
The  many-headed  monster  was  in  a  better  humor  than 
usual  that  night.  Whether  it  was  that  the  edge  of 
its  appetite  was  in  some  degree  taken  off  by  the  sop 
it  had  already  had,  or  whether  it  was  that  the  patri 
otic  punch  (which  has  never  yet  had  its  due  as  one 
of  the  main  promoters  of  the  Eevolution)  had  not 
yet  more  than  half  done  its  work,  still  the  mood  of 
the  mob  was  changed  at  once  from  mischief  to  fun. 
This  unexpected  apparition  moved  their  mirth ;  and 
Ambrose,  taking  advantage  of  their  humor,  performed 
such  antic  tricks  in  the  moonlight  as  threw  them  into 
inextinguishable  fits  of  laughter.  With  all  the  ca 
price  of  a  mob,  they  themselves  soon  began  to  dance 
to  his  music ;  and  not  all  the  influence  of  their  leaders 
could  bring  them  up  again  to  the  point  of  mischief — 

"  So  Orpheus  fiddled,  and  so  danced  the  brutes." 

This  danger  over,  the  arrival  of  the  British  regi 
ments  prevented  any  apprehension  of  its  renewal. 
But  the  situation  of  the  Mallorys  was  gloomy  and 
uncomfortable  enough.  The  gayeties  which  the  ar 
rival  of  the  forces  produced  in  the  loyal  circles  were 
no  compensation  for  the  breaking-up  of  old  friend- 


312  PHCEBE   MALLORY. 

ships,  and  for  the  doubt  and  uncertainty  that  hung 
over  their  future.  At  last  the  provincial  resistance 
began  to  assume  a  more  threatening  form.  The  siege 
clasped  the  town  around  with  its  iron  arms.  The 
beautiful  hills  which  encompass  the  town  were  now 
changed  into  mimic  volcanoes,  belching  forth  fire  and 
smoke  and  death  against  it.  All  who  could  and 
dared  fled  from  its  borders.  Mr.  Mallory's  political 
offences  were  too  flagrant  to  allow  him  any  choice. 
He  was  obliged  to  abide  by  the  result  of  the  conflict 
where  he  was.  To  be  sure,  neither  he  nor  his  chil 
dren  would  ever  admit,  even  to  themselves,  the 
probability  of  the  rebels  being  ultimately  successful ; 
but  then  there  could  not  but  be  painful  misgivings 
as  to  what  might  befall  before  the  insurrection  was 
finally  quelled.  It  was  a  dismal  winter,  indeed,  as 
Phoebe  told  its  private  history.  Not  all  the  balls  and 
assemblies  and  private  theatricals  that  were  devised 
to  while  away  the  weary  hours  could  dispel  the 
sense  of  pain  and  apprehension  which  their  situation 
excited  in  the  breasts  of  the  loyalists. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  forebodings  of  their 
prophetic  hearts  were  fulfilled.  The  dreary  winter 
xrore  away  and  the  dreary  spring  began.  The  inten 
tions  of  the  Commander-in-chief  were  kept  strictly 
secret ;  but  there  were  plenty  of  surmises  abroad  as 
to  what  they  were.  But  that  Boston,  open  as  it  was 
to  the  sea,  of  which  England  was  the  mistress,  would 
be  occupied  by  the  British  forces  until  the  rebellion 
was  suppressed,  was  a  thing  that  had  settled  down 


PHOEBE  MALLORY.  313 

into  a  recognized  certainty.  It  could  not  enter  into 
a  loyal  heart  to  conceive  that  the  royal  troops  could 
be  dislodged  from  the  capital  of  New  England  by  the 
rabble  rout  that  surrounded  them.  But  at  last  the 
fatal  news  fell  upon  their  ears  like  a  clap  of  thunder, 
that  the  town  was  to  be  evacuated,  and  abandoned  to 
the  besiegers.  What  distress  and  despair  of  those 
who  had  placed  themselves  and  all  they  had  under 
the  protection  of  the  British  sceptre,  and  who  found 
it  powerless  in  their  utmost  need  !  All  remonstrance 
on  their  part  was  in  vain.  General  Howe  was  in 
flexible,  for  he  knew  that  his  post  was  no  longer 
tenable ;  but  he  assured  the  distressed  loyalists  of 
all  possible  assistance  in  removing  their  persons  and 
effects  beyond  the  reach  of  the  exasperated  rebels. 

Phcebe  described  to  me  with  lifelike  effect,  for  it 
•was  what  she  had  the  most  to  do  with,  the  confusion 
of  the  few  days  that  elapsed  between  the  announce 
ment  of  the  intended  evacuation  and  the  embarka 
tion.  The  grief  of  the  Mallorys  at  leaving  the  home 
of  their  childhood,  perhaps  forever,  and  the  uncer 
tainty  which  hung  over  their  future  fate,  was  dis 
turbed  by  the  necessity  of  deciding  which  of  their 
effects  they  should  take  with  them.  A  limited 
amount  of  freight  was  all  that  could  be  possibly 
assigned  to  each  refugee,  and  it  was  hard  to  decide, 
among  all  the  objects  which  habit  had  rendered  ne 
cessary,  or  association  dear,  which  should  be  chosen, 
and  which  abandoned.  All  was  hurry  and  bustle 
and  distress.  They  were  obliged  to  select  such 


314  PHCEBE   MALLORY. 

articles  as  contained  the  most  value  in  the  eompact- 
est  form,  and  to  leave  the  rest  behind.  Their  clothes, 
plate,  jewels,  and  such  other  valuables  as  they  could 
compress  into  the  smallest  possible  space,  were  all 
that  they  could  take  with  them.  But  all  the  old 
companion  furniture,  speaking  to  them  of  ancestry 
and  of  happier  days,  the  family  pictures,  the  trifles 
which  affection  magnified  into  things  of  moment, 
because  they  were  seen  through  the  atmosphere  of 
love  and  friendship  which  surrounded  them,  all,  all 
had  to  be  left  behind  them. 

It  was  a  dreadful  night,  that  of  the  17th  of  March, 
1776  —  the  last  that  they  were  to  spend  in  the  home 
of  their  fathers.  Early  the  next  morning  they  were 
to  embark  on  board  the  transports,  to  go  they  knew 
not  whither.  The  young  ladies,  deprived  of  their 
usual  employments,  and  their  recent  mournful  occu 
pation  being  over,  as  the  trunks  and  packing-cases 
were  already  on  board,  wandered  about  the  house, 
from  room  to  room,  like  ghosts  haunting  scenes  once 
loved,  reluctant  to  look  their  last  upon  those  beloved 
walls.  The  gentlemen  of  the  family  were  busy  in 
making  what  arrangements  they  could  to  secure  the 
wrecks  of  their  property.  It  was  long  past  mid 
night  before  they  retired  to  rest,  if  rest  they  could, 
for  the  last  time  under  that  old-accustomed  roof. 
They  had  not  been  long  retired,  however,  when  they 
were  aroused  again  by  a  clamorous  knocking  at  the 
door,  and  the  intelligence  that  they  must  repair  at 
once  on  board  ship,  if  they  would  not  be  left  behind. 


PHCEBE   MALLORY.  315 

The  rebels  had  taken  up  a  position  on  Nook's  Hill, 
which  rendered  it  necessary  to  evacuate  the  town  at 
an  earlier  hour  than  the  one  first  appointed.  The  con 
fusion  may  be  imagined.  The  carriage  was  at  length 
at  the  door,  and  performed  its  last  service  in  convey 
ing  the  family  to  the  wharf,  before  it  passed  into  the 
hands  of  the  patriotic  gentlemen  who  had  purchased 
it  at  a  fourth  of  its  value.  They  found,  with  some 
difficulty,  the  transport  assigned  to  them,  and,  em 
barking,  awaited  the  signal  of  departure. 

While  they  were  thus  expecting  their  sailing- 
orders,  one  of  the  young  ladies  discovered,  that,  in  her 
hurry,  she  had  left  her  watch  behind  her.  It  had  a 
value  beyond  its  intrinsic  worth,  as  having  belonged 
to  her  mother.  Her  distress  was  great,  and  the  ques 
tion  arose  whether  there  was  time  to  send  for  it. 
The  captain  of  the  transport  gave  it  as  his  opinion 
that  there  would  be  ample  time.  Then  who  was  to 
be  the  messenger?  Ambrose  could  not  be  spared 
from  some  essential  service  in  the  arrangement  of  the 
luggage :  so  Phcebe  alone  remained  to  perform  the 
errand.  She  was  accordingly  despatched,  with  strict 
injunctions  to  make  a  speedy  return.  It  was  a  raw 
blustering  March  morning,  and,  as  Phcebe  threaded 
the  narrow  streets,  the  light  snow  was  blown  in  fitful 
gusts  in  her  face.  She  made  a  somewhat  wide  circuit 
to  avoid  the  principal  streets,  which  were  now  full  of 
soldiers ;  the  inhabitants  being  under  orders  to  keep 
within  doors  until  a  certain  hour.  She  had  some 
difficulty,  too,  in  procuring  the  house-key  from  the 


316  PHCEBE   MALLORY. 

neighbor  who  had  charge  of  it ;  and  when  at  last  she 
obtained  entrance,  it  was  still  dark,  and  she  had  to 
strike  a  light  in  order  to  commence  her  search. 
Everything  seemed  to  conspire  to  delay  her  return 
to  the  ship.  And,  after  she  had  procured  a  caudle, 
the  object  of  her  search  was  not  to  be  found.  She 
looked  for  it  in  every  place  where  it  should  and 
where  it  should  not  be,  but  without  success.  This 
consumed  many  precious  moments.  At  last  she  aban 
doned  the  matter  in  despair,  thinking  that  her  young 
mistress  must  have  the  watch  about  her  after  all,  or 
else  it  had  been  dropped  on  the  way  to  the  ship. 
After  securing  the  house  again,  she  made  what  haste 
she  could  to  the  wharf.  But  what  was  her  amaze 
ment  and  despair  at  seeing  no  sign  remaining  of  the 
good  ship  on  board  of  which  all  her  treasures  were 
embarked ! 

She  could  not  at  first  believe  her  eyes,  and  she 
stood  for  some  time  in  mute  astonishment.  But 
before  long  her  mind  received  a  distinct  impression 
of  the  dreadful  truth,  and  she  made  the  air  resound 
with  her  shrieks  and  lamentations.  She  flew  dis 
tractedly  up  and  down  the  wharf,  imploring  to  be 
taken  on  board  some  of  the  transports  destined  for 
the  same  port ;  but  no  one  had  any  leisure  to  attend 
to  her.  It  was  in  the  height  of  the  hurry  of  the 
embarkation,  and  ship  after  ship  was  dropping  down 
with  the  tide,  and  making  what  haste  they  might  to 
Nantasket  Roads.  Almost  immediately  after  Phoebe 
had  left  the  ship,  orders  came  down  directing  her  to 


PHCEBE  MALLORY.  317 

get  under  way  directly,  and  she  was  already  out  of 
sight.  She  remained  on  the  wharf  in  a  state  but  lit 
tle  removed  from  distraction,  renewing  her  entreaties 
to  all  she  met  for  assistance  in  regaining  her  master's 
party.  But  all  the  reply  she  received  was  curses,  and 
orders  to  mind  her  own  business  and  to  get  out  of 
the  way.  Exhausted  at  length  by  her  exertions,  and 
finding  there  was  no  hope  for  her,  she  returned  in 
agony  of  mind  to  the  deserted  house  in  King  Street. 
There,  in  solitude  and  despair,  flung  upon  her  face  on 
the  nearest  sofa,  she  lay  for  hours,  weeping  as  one 
that  refused  to  be  comforted.  The  merry  peals  of  the 
bells,  and  the  distant  sound  of  military  music,  might 
have  told  her  that  General  Washington  and  his  vic 
torious  army  were  making  their  triumphal  entry  into 
the  town;  but  she  neither  heard  nor  heeded  them. 
Her  heart  and  her  eyes  were  following  the  stout 
ship  which  was  bearing  away  from  her,  probably  for 
ever,  the  friends  of  her  childhood  and  the  lover  of 
her  youth. 

In  this  state  she  continued  for  four  and  twenty 
successive  hours.  But,  after  the  first  paroxysm  of 
grief  and  despair  had  exhausted  itself,  Phcebe  was 
not  of  a  nature  to  abandon  herself  to  fruitless  re- 
pinings.  It  was  fortunate  for  her  that  it  was  neces 
sary  to  take  some  immediate  measures  for  her  own 
support;  for  the  poor  girl  was  now  in  a  singularly 
unfortunate  predicament.  She  absolutely  belonged 
to  nobody.  The  imperfect  legislation  of  those  primi 
tive  days  had  not  provided  for  such  a  case  of  destitu- 


318  PHCEBE   MALLORY. 

tion.  Had  she  had  the  hick  to  live  in  these  times, 
in  the  Southern  States,  such  an  anomaly  could  not 
have  occurred.  There,  the  abeyance  of  the  abandoned 
property  in  herself  would  have  been  terminated  in 
favor  of  the  fortunate  finder;  or  at  worst  it  would 
have  resulted  to  the  State.  But  in  those  days,  before 
political  economy,  she  was  suffered  to  escheat  to  her 
self.  And  so  she  had  nobody  to  take  care  of  her. 
Thanks,  however,  to  the  thorough  breeding  she  had 
received  in  Mr.  Mallory's  house,  she  was  able  to  com 
mand  at  once  her  choice  of  the  best  services  in  the 
town;  and  she  was  soon  as  comfortably  situated  as 
she  could  be  under  her  unhappy  circumstances. 

The  long  years  of  the  war,  of  course,  cut  off  all 
definite  intelligence  of  the  Mallorys  and  of  Ambrose. 
And  the  longer  years  of  the  peace  which  followed  it 
brought  little  more  satisfactory  information  about 
them.  All  that  was  certain  was,  that  Mr.  Mallory 
had  been  provided  for  by  an  appointment  in  Antigua, 
and  it  was  taken  for  granted  that  he  had  proceeded 
thither  with  his  family.  The  humble  Ambrose,  of 
course,  had  no  share  in  these  imperfect  advices,  and 
Phoebe  was  left  to  guess  at  his  fate  as  best  she 
might.  The  Mallorys  left  no  relatives  behind  them  in 
the  Province,  and  all  interest  in  them  or  their  affairs 
soon  died  away.  There  was  but  one  humble  heart  in 
which  they  occupied  all  the  room  that  was  not  before 
engrossed  by  Ambrose  their  slave. 

Meanwhile  more  than  thirty  years  rolled  away 
since  the  emigration.  Phcebe  was  become  a  prosper- 


PHCEBE   MALLORY.  319 

ous  woman.  She  had  been  for  some  years  retired 
from  service,  and  had  invested  her  earnings  in  a  small 
confectioner's  shop,  which  was  well  frequented  by 
those  who  respected  the  excellence  of  her  character 
and  of  her  pastry.  She  had  never  married,  though 
not  unsought,  but  still  remained  constant  to  the  mem 
ory  of  Ambrose;  though  she  had  for  many  years 
abandoned  all  hope  of  ever  seeing  or  hearing  of  him 
again. 

One  afternoon,  as  she  was  sitting  sewing  behind 
her  counter,  a  man  entered  her  shop.  His  dress  was 
sordid  and  travel-stained,  and  he  walked  with  diffi 
culty,  supported  by  a  rough  stick.  He  stood  with 
his  back  to  the  light,  so  that  Phoebe  could  not  see 
his  features  distinctly.  He  stood,  and  gazed  long 
and  earnestly  in  her  face.  She  grew  alarmed,  and 
asked  his  business.  In  the  act  of  replying,  he  shifted 
his  position,  so  that  the  setting  sun  shone  full  upon 
him.  She  started  from  her  seat,  shrieked,  and  fell 
senseless  upon  the  floor. 

"  I  dropped,"  to  use  her  own  words,  "  as  if  I  was 
shot."  It  was  Ambrose  himself,  come  in  the  flesh 
to  claim  her  at  last.  Happily,  joy  is  not  a  mortal 
disease,  or  Phosbe  might  not  have  survived  to  tell 
me  her  story.  "Water  was  at  hand,  and  she  soon 
opened  her  eyes  upon  the  face  of  him  whom  she  had 
loved  so  long  and  well.  It  was  changed  indeed. 
Years  of  slavery  had  not  passed  over  his  head  with 
out  leaving  furrows  on  the  brow,  and  wrinkles  on  the 
cheek  But  still  it  was  his  face,  and  that  was  all  she 


320  PHCEBE   MALLORY. 

asked.  Time  and  ill  usage  had  grizzled  his  hair,  and 
bent  his  broad  shoulders ;  but  to  her  eyes  he  was 
still  young,  for  she  saw  him  with  the  eyes  of  her 
heart. 

It  would  be  hard  to  say  whether  pleasure  or  pain 
predominated  in  that  first  interview.  But  it  was  not 
long  before  they  knew  that  they  were  happy.  Phoebe 
took  Ambrose  to  her  house,  fed,  clothed,  and  nursed 
him,  and  finally  married  him.  And  though  their 
union  was  late,  and  did  not  continue  long,  it  was  as 
happy  a  marriage  as  ever  knit  two  hearts  in  one. 

The  story  of  Ambrose,  when  he  was  able  to  tell  it, 
was  simple  and  common  enough.  He  had  followed 
his  master  from  Halifax  to  London,  and  from  London 
to  Antigua.  There  Mr.  Mallory  died.  The  youug 
ladies  married,  and  returned  to  England ;  and  the  sons 
took  to  bad  courses,  and  died  not  long  after  their 
father.  Ambrose  was  taken  in  execution  for  a  debt 
of  the  last  of  them,  and  sold  to  a  Jamaica  planter. 
In  Jamaica  he  suffered  for  many  years  the  horrors  of 
sugar-making,  aggravated  by  the  contrast  of  the  easy 
service  of  his  previous  life.  A  few  months  before, 
he  was  sent  to  Kingston  with  a  load  of  sugar,  and, 
finding  a  vessel  on  the  point  of  sailing  for  New  York, 
he  concealed  himself  on  board,  and  succeeded  in  ef 
fecting  his  escape.  Arrived  in  New  York,  he  begged 
his  way  to  Boston,  being  detained  on  the  road  by  a 
fever,  caused  by  the  sudden  change  of  climate,  and 
arrived  footsore,  weary,  and  sick  at  heart,  little  ex 
pecting  the  happiness  that  awaited  him. 


PHCEBE   MALLORY.  321 

Before  long,  Ambrose  grew  weary  of  the  town,  and, 
as  his  health  had  never  been  good  since  his  return 
home,  Phrebe  sold  her  shop,  and  bought  the  cottage 
in  which  I  found  her.  Here  they  supported  them 
selves  comfortably  enough  for  the  few  years  that 
Ambrose  lived.  But  the  hard  winters  of  New  Eng 
land  were  too  much  for  the  constitution  of  one  so 
long  accustomed  to  the  climate  of  the  tropics.  He 
died  of  a  consumption,  lovingly  watched  over  and 
tenderly  mourned  by  his  faithful  Phoebe. 

Such  is  a  plain  narrative  of  the  incidents  of  her 
life,  which  I  gathered  from  Phoebe  Mallory  in  the 
course  of  my  acquaintance  with  her.  I  think  that 
they  might  have  been  invested  with  a  good  deal  of 
romantic  interest,  had  they  fallen  into  the  right 
hands.  But  such  as  I  have  I  give  unto  you. 

Phoebe  always  averred  that  she  was  the  last  sur 
viving  slave  in  the  State ;  and,  as  I  could  not  contra 
dict  her,  I  was  willing  to  believe  that  it  was  so.  I 
confess  it  increased  my  interest  in  her,  and  made 
me  look  upon  her  in  some  sort  as  an  historical  char 
acter.  And  I  could  not  but  think  of  the  day  when 
the  last  American  slave  will  excite  a  feeling  in  the 
breast  of  some  future  inquirer  somewhat  analogous 
to  that  created  by  the  sight  of  the  last  mouldering 
fragment  of  the  Bastille.  May  that  day  soon  arrive  ! 

Several  years  ago  I  removed  from  the  city,  and  lost 
sight  of  poor  Phoebe.  Not  long  since,  having  a  lei 
sure  day  in  town,  I  felt  strongly  moved  to  go  and  see 
21 


322  PHCEBE  MALLORY. 

if  she  were  yet  alive.  Yielding  to  the  impulse,  I 
took  the  well-remembered  road  that  led  by  her  hut. 
But  it  had  vanished  away,  and  in  its  place  stood  a 
fine  Gothic  cottage  with  an  Egyptian  entablature  at 
one  end  supported  by  four  fluted  Doric  pillars.  I 
knew  at  the  first  glance  that  it  would  be  of  no  avail 
to  inquire  after  my  old  friend  at  such  a  structure  as 
this.  So  I  continued  my  stroll  till  I  came  to  the 
village,  about  two  miles  off.  There  I  inquired  of 
the  first  man  I  happened  to  meet,  whether  he  knew 
anything  of  the  fate  of  Phoebe  Mallory.  I  was  in 
luck  in  my  man;  for  he  chanced  to  be  none  other 
than  good  master  Sexton  himself.  With  the  cheer 
ful  solemnity  which  marks  his  calling,  he  informed 
me  that  she  had  died  about  three  years  before,  and 
was  buried  in  the  churchyard  over  against  which  we 
stood.  I  asked  him  to  show  me  her  grave,  which  he 
did  with  professional  alacrity.  It  is  the  third  grave 
beyond  the  elm-tree,  on  your  right  hand  as  you  enter 
the  gate,  next  the  wall 

I  could  not  but  feel  a  sense  of  satisfaction,  mingled 
with  regret  at  the  loss  of  my  good  old  friend,  to  think 
that  the  last  relic  of  Massachusetts  slavery  lay  buried 
beneath  my  feet.  I  felt  proud  of  my  native  State  for 
what  she  had  done  as  a  State  to  mark  her  aversion 
to  slavery ;  and  I  hoped  that  the  time  was  not  far 
distant  when  she  would  brush  aside  the  cobweb  ties 
which  prevent  her  from  telling  the  hunter  of  men  in 
yet  more  emphatic  tones  that  her  fields  are  no  hunt 
ing-grounds  for  him. 


PHCEBE   MALLORY.  323 

I  have  no  taste  for  monumental  memorials,  as  a 
general  thing.  At  least,  I  see  no  fitness  in  attempt 
ing  to  preserve  the  memory  of  mediocrity  or  obscu 
rity  by  monuments  whose  very  permanence  is  a 
satire  on  the  forgotten  names  they  bear.  But  I  have 
no  quarrel  with  the  feeling  which  prompts  men  to 
mark  with  marble  the  ground  where  the  truly  great 
repose,  or  to  record  the  resting-place  of  humbler 
merit  when  it  is  fairly  invested  with  some  just  his 
toric  interest.  Of  this  latter  class  I  esteem  the  grave 
of  Phcebe  Mallory.  And  I  shall  think  it  neither 
absurd  nor  extravagant,  if,  within  a  few  months,  a 
plain  white  marble  slab  should  be  found  marking  the 
spot  where  she  lies,  with  an  inscription  somewhat  to 
this  effect  :  — 

"HERB  BESTS  FROM  HER  LABORS, 
BENEATH  THE  FREE  SOIL  OF  MASSACHUSETTS, 


THE   LAST    SURVIVOR   OF   HER    SLAVES. 


OLD    HOUSES. 


OLD    HOUSES. 


I  LOVE  an  old  house.  Even  though  its  walls, 
battered  and  decayed,  speak  of  nothing  but  pov 
erty  and  toil,  still  there  is  something  touching  in 
the  thought  of  the  tide  of  human  passions  and  human 
affections  which  have  flowed  through  it ;  of  the  hap 
py  marriages,  the  joyous  childhood,  the  cheerful  age, 
which  it  has  sheltered ;  of  the  many  spirits  which 
it  has  beheld  beginning  the  strife  of  being,  which, 
after  enduring  the  labor  and  heat  of  the  longest 
of  life's  days,  have  gone  to  their  eternal  home,  of 
whose  existence  not  a  single  trace  remains  in  any 
mind  on  earth.  It  is  not  necessary  that  the  many 
centuries  which  are  required  in  older  countries  to 
invest  the  habitations  of  man  with  the  venerable 
dignity  of  old  age  should  have  swept  over  its  thresh 
old  and  its  hearthstone  to  sanctify  to  my  heart  one 
of  those  quaint  constructions  which  I  love  to  people 
anew  with  the  beings  of  a  vanished  generation.  All 
I  ask  is,  that  it  should  speak  to  me  of  the  past,  of  the 
forgotten. 

It  is  my  delight  to  take  my  solitary  walk  through 
those  streets  of  our  city  which  have  suffered  least 


328  OLD  HOUSES. 

from  the  levelling  hand  of  modern  improvement. 
I  eschew,  as  I  would  an  infected  district,  that  mush 
room  growth  of  human  habitations  which  has  climbed 
the  airy  heights  of  West  Boston,  and  filled  up  its 
pleasant  valleys,  where  in  my  boyhood  I  used  to  play, 
with  a  profane  load  of  brick  and  mortar.  But  where 
Washington  Street  extends  its  tortuous  length,  and 
where  the  North  End  displays  her  labyrinthine  maze 
of  narrow  lanes  and  alleys,  —  now,  alas  !  with  a  piti 
ful  ambition,  all  erected  into  streets,  as  every  petty 
prince  must  nowadays,  forsooth,  be  a  king,  —  there, 
to  the  mind  of  a  true  lover  of  bygone  days,  the  spirit 
of  the  past  broods  as  sensibly  as  over  the  most  an 
cient  metropolis  of  Europe.  What  matters  it  to  him, 
that  the  din  of  busy  life  is  in  his  ears,  that  he  is  jostled 
at  every  turn  by  eager  traffickers,  and  that  his  escape 
with  life  from  the  thundering  throng  of  drays  and 
stage-coaches  is  a  standing  miracle  ?  He  hears  not 
the  uproar ;  the  bustle  disturbs  not  him ;  his  eyes  are 
with  his  heart,  in  the  good  old  days  when  schoolboys 
played  unmolested  in  what  are  now  the  busiest  thor 
oughfares.  Visions  of  fine  old  men,  in  a  costume 
worthy  of  the  dignity  of  men,  and  gorgeous  dames 
worthy  of  the  men  they  loved,  float  before  his  mental 
sight.  He  walks  in  the  midst  of  a  generation  which 
now  lives  on  earth  only  on  the  canvas  of  Copley, 
where  their  brocades  and  satins  still  rustle,  and  their 
faces  still  beam  with  the  bloom  of  immortality.  The 
old  wralls  around  him  are  still  vocal  with  the  mirth 
and  gladness  of  households  which  many  a  sorrow  has 


OLD  HOUSES.  329 

chastened,  with  the  frolic  laugh  of  children  who  have 
long  since  reached  —  faint  pilgrims  !  —  the  utmost 
boundary  of  human  existence,  and  gladly  laid  down 
the  load  of  life  in  the  still  chambers  of  the  tomb. 
Friendly  faces  look  kindly  upon  him  from  the  case 
ments;  sweet  though  solemn  voices  tell  him  of  the 
days  gone  by,  and  remind  him  that  the  century 
that  will  comprise  the  lives  of  all  his  contempora 
ries  is  hastening  on  rapid  wings  to  join  the  ages 
before  the  flood,  and  that  the  hour  will  soon  be  here 
when  the  memory  of  him  and  his  will  be  swallowed 
up  in  the  advancing  tide  of  coming  ages,  as  a  drop 
of  rain  melts  into  the  ocean.  The  roofs  under  which 
our  fathers  lived  and  died  are  full  of  instruction : 
they  teach  us  a  lesson,  mournful,  yet  pleasant  to  the 
soul,  of  the  brevity  of  human  life  and  the  uncertainty 
of  human  hopes. 

This  edifice  before  us  is  but  of  yesterday,  as  it 
were ;  and  yet  who  laid  the  corner-stone  ?  Who 
counted  the  cost,  and  thought  he  was  undertaking 
a  work  of  mighty  moment  ?  Where  are  the  hands 
that  reared  the  pile,  and  brought  daily  bread  to  their 
children  from  their  daily  toil  ?  Where  is  she  who 
first  established  within  its  boundaries  the  gentle 
sway  of  domestic  government  ?  Perhaps  she  passed 
over  its  threshold  a  smiling,  tearful  bride,  casting  a 
lingering  look  behind  at  the  happy  home  she  had 
left,  yet  regarding  the  one  before  her  with  the  hope 
ful  confidence  of  a  woman's  heart.  Where  are  the 
troops  of  friends  which  flocked  to  its  portals  with 


330  OLD   HOUSES. 

cheerful  looks  and  hearty  congratulations  ?  Where 
are  the  children,  in  whose  promise  and  success  hearts 
were  garnered  up  ?  They  have  all  departed  from  the 
earth.  To  us  they  are  as  if  they  had  never  been. 
One  after  another  their  funeral  processions  have 
blackened  the  streets.  For  each,  in  succession,  have 
human  hearts  refused  to  be  comforted,  and  for  a 
season  thought  that  the  sun  would  never  shine  on 
them  again  as  it  used  to  do,  until  time  and  care  and 
fresh  griefs  plucked  from  the  bosom  the  sorrow  which 
seemed  to  be  rooted  there  forever.  One  by  one  the 
actors  who  played  their  parts  on  this  little  stage 
have  withdrawn  from  the  scene,  and  the  curtain  long 
since  dropped,  when  the  last  lagging  veteran  retired, 
and  the  drama  was  ended. 

But  although  I  love  an  old  house  in  itself,  for  its 
own  sake,  and  independently  of  any  specific  associa 
tions,  yet  in  a  special  manner  do  I  delight  in  the 
dwellings  of  my  old  familiar  friends,  whose  faces  are 
familiar  to  my  eye,  whose  characters  are  dear  to 
my  heart,  whose  various  fates  are  as  present  to  me 
as  my  own  personal  history.  Mistake  me  not.  I 
do  not  mean  any  of  the  round-hatted,  frock-coated, 
breeches-less  generation  which  now  encumber  the 
streets.  I  care  but  little  for  this  stereotyped  edi 
tion  of  humanity,  all  bound  alike,  and  not  differing 
much  in  the  nature  and  value  of  their  contents,  like 
the  washy  concoctions  of  some  knowledge-diffusing 
society. 

No,  no  !   I  refer  to  times  when  "  Nature's  copy " 


OLD   HOUSES.  331 

wore  a  dress  which  spoke  to  you  of  the  meaning  it 
contained,  as  in  some  solemn  library  the  tomes 

"Which  Aldus  printed,  or  Du  Sueil  has  bound," 

tell  you,  even  before  you  open  them,  of  the  classic 
inind  within. 

Too  few,  alas  !  of  these  abodes,  consecrated  by  the 
memory  of  departed  worth,  have  escaped  the  ruthless 
hands  of  the  money-lovers  of  this  age,  who  regard 
one  of  my  dear  old  houses  as  only  so  much  improva 
ble  real  estate,  and  who  think  of  nothing,  when  they 
gaze  on  its  time-honored  walls,  but  how  much  the  old 
materials  will  bring.  The  good  old  class  of  "  garden- 
houses,"  in  which  it  is  recorded  that  Milton  always 
chose  to  live,  is  now  almost  as  entirely  extinct  here 
as  in  London  itself. 

How  well  do  I  remember  one  of  these,  in  which 
some  of  my  happiest  days  and  merriest  nights  were 
spent !  It  stood  with  its  end  to  the  street,  overshad 
owed  by  a  magnificent  elm  of  aboriginal  growth, 
which  made  strange  and  solemn  music  in  my  boyish 
ears  when  the  autumn  winds  called  forth  its  hidden 
harmonies  at  midnight.  Entering  the  gate,  you  pro 
ceeded  on  a  flagged  walk,  having  the  house  close  to 
you  on  your  left,  and  on  your  right  the  courtyard, 
filled  with  "  flowers  of  all  hues,"  and  fragrant  shrubs, 
each  forming  the  mathematical  centre  of  an  exact 
circle  cut  in  the  velvet  greensward.  When  within 
the  front-door,  you  had  on  your  left  hand  the  best 
parlor,  opened  only  on  high  solemnities,  and  which 


332  OLD  HOUSES. 

used  to  excite  in  my  young  mind  a  mysterious  feeling 
of  mingled  curiosity  and  awe  whenever  I  stole  a 
glance  at  its  darkened  interior,  with  its  curiously 
carved  mahogany  chairs  black  as  ebony  with  age, 
its  blue  damask  curtains,  the  rare  piece  of  tapestry 
which  served  as  a  carpet  —  all  reflected  in  the  tall 
mirror,  with  its  crown  and  sceptred  top,  between  the 
windows.  I  remember  it  used  to  put  me  in  mind  of 
the  fatal  blue  chamber  in  Bluebeard.  I  am  not  sure 
now  that  there  was  not  something  supernatural  about 
it. 

But  it  was  the  parlor  opposite  that  was  the  very 
quintessence  of  snugness  and  comfort,  worth  half  a 
hundred  fantastic  boudoirs  and  modern  drawing-rooms 
bedizened  with  French  finery.  On  your  right  hand 
as  you  entered  were  two  windows  opening  upon  the 
courtyard  above  commemorated,  with  their  conven 
ient  window-seats  —  an  accommodation  which  I  sadly 
miss  —  with  their  appropriate  green  velvet  cushions,  a 
little  the  worse  for  wear.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the 
room  to  the  windows  was  a  glass  door  opening  into 
the  garden,  —  a  pleasant  sight  to  see,  with  its  rectan 
gular  box-lined  gravel  walks,  its  abundant  vegeta 
bles,  its  luxuriant  fruit-trees,  its  vine  trained  over  the 
stable-wall.  As  you  returned  to  the  house  through 
the  garden-door,  you  had  on  your  right  the  door  of  a 
closet  with  a  window  looking  into  the  garden,  which 
was  entitled  the  study,  having  been  appropriated  to 
that  purpose  by  the  deceased  master  of  the  house. 
This  recess  possessed  substantial  charms  to  my  infant 


OLD   HOUSES.  333 

imagination  as  the  perennial  fountain  of  cakes  and 
apples,  which  my  good  aunt  —  of  whom  presently  — 
conducted  in  a  never-failing  stream  to  the  never- 
satisfied  mouth  of  an  urchin  of  six  years  old.  I 
thought  they  grew  there  by  some  spontaneous  process 
of  reproduction. 

A  little  farther  on,  nearer  to  the  study-door  than 
the  one  by  which  we  entered,  was  the  fireplace,  fit 
shrine  for  the  Penates  of  such  a  household ;  its  ample 
circumference  adorned  with  Dutch  tiles,  where  stout 
shepherdesses  in  hoops  and  high-heeled  shoes  gave 
sidelong  looks  of  love  to  kneeling  swains  in  cocked 
hats  and  trunk-hose ;  while  their  dogs  and  sheep  had 
grown  so  much  alike  from  long  intimacy  as  to  be 
scarcely  distinguishable.  How  I  loved  those  little 
glimpses  into  pastoral  life  !  I  have  one  of  them  now, 
which  I  rescued  from  the  wreck  of  matter  when  the 
house  came  down.  Within  the  ample  jaws  of  the 
chimney,  which  might  have  swallowed  up  at  a  mouth 
ful  a  century  of  patent  grates,  crackled  and  roared  the 
merry  wood  fire,  —  fed  with  massy  logs  which  it  would 
take  two  men  to  lift,  as  men  are  now,  -r—  casting 
its  cheerful  light  as  evening  drew  in  on  the  panelled 
walls,  bringing  out  the  curious  "  egg-and-anchor " 
carvings,  which  were  my  special  pride  and  wonder, 
and  flashing  back  from  the  mirror  globe  which  de 
pended  from  the  beam  which  divided  the  comfortable 
low  ceiling  into  two  unequal  parts.  And  let  me  not 
forget  the  mantelpiece,  adorned  with  grotesque  heads 
in  wood,  and  clusters  of  fruit  and  flowers,  of 


334  OLD   HOUSES. 

•which  Grinling  Gibbons  himself  need  not  have  been 
ashamed.  And  then  the  Turkey  carpet,  covering  the 
breadth,  but  not  the  length,  of  the  room ;  and  the 
books,  —  the  "  Spectator's "  short  face  in  his  title- 
page,  the  original  "  Tatler,"  the  first  editions  of  Pope. 
But  time  would  fail  me  were  I  to  record  all  the  well- 
remembered  contents  of  that  dear  old  room,  —  the 
sofa  or  settee,  of  narrow  capacity,  looking  as  if  three 
single  chairs  had  been  rolled  into  one  ;  the  card-table, 
with  its  corners  for  caudles,  and  its  pools  for  fish 
scooped  out  of  the  verdant  champain  of  green  broad 
cloth.  But  enough :  let  us  now  approach  the  divin 
ity  whose  penetralia  we  have  entered,  and  who  well 
befits  such  a  shrine. 

In  an  elbow-chair  at  the  right  of  the  fireplace,  sat 
my  excellent  aunt,  Mrs.  Margaret  Champion,  widow 
of  the  Honorable  John  Champion,  long  one  of  his 
Majesty's  Council  for  this  Province.  When  I  first 
remember  her,  she  had  passed  her  seventieth  year, 
and  she  lived  in  a  green  old  age  till  near  a  hundred 
winters  had  passed  over  her  head.  What  a  picture  of 
serene  and  beautiful  old  age !  Her  placid  countenance, 
which  a  cheerful  piety  and  constitutional  philosophy 
had  kept  almost  un wrinkled  ;  her  large  black  eyes,  in 
which  the  fires  of  youth  were  not  yet  wholly  extin 
guished  ;  the  benevolent  smile  which  was  seldom 
absent  from  her  lips  —  spoke  of  a  frame  on  which 
Time  had  laid  a  gentle  hand,  and  of  a  mind  at  ease. 
When  I  knew  her,  the  profane  importunities  of  the 
fairer  part  of  her  relatives  had  obtained  a  reluctant 


OLD  HOUSES.  335 

consent  to  abandon  the  gently  swelling  hoop  and  low 
ering  crape  cushion  in  which  she  once  rejoiced.  But 
you  could  never  have  seen  how  she  became  her  decent 
white  lace  cap,  her  flowing  black  lace  shade,  her  rich 
silks  for  common  wear,  and  her  stiff  brocades  for 
high  solemnities,  and  not  have  known  that  she  was  a 
gentlewoman  born. 

I  attribute  a  good  deal  of  my  love  of  other  days  to 
the  short  winter  afternoons  and  long  winter  evenings 
which  I  sometimes  spent  alone  with  her.  I  say  some 
times,  for  she  was  not  one  of  the  instances  of  ne 
glected  old  age  ;  but  her  society  was  courted  by 
young  as  well  as  old. 

"  The  general  favorite  as  the  general  friend." 

My  aunt  Champion  was  born  not  long  after  the 
commencement  of  the  last  century,  and  remembered 
Governor  Dudley.  The  succeeding  inhabitants  of  the 
old  Province  House  were  familiar  to  her  recollection, 
from  Colonel  Shute  down  to  Sir  Francis  Bernard. 
She  was  a  stanch  Tory,  God  bless  her!  and  loved 
the  king  to  her  dying  day,  and  thought  that  no 
greater  men  ever  lived,  at  least  on  this  continent, 
than  his  Majesty's  representatives  in  the  Province. 
How  well  would  she  touch  off  the  characters  of  the 
successive  Excellencies  who  in  turn  did  penance  in 
the  unthankful  office  of  provincial  governor !  With 
what  skill  (though  all  unconscious  of  any)  would  she 
individualize  them,  and  bring  them  body  and  soul 
before  your  eyes! — Shute,  with  his  military  bluntness 


336  OLD   HOUSES. 

and  frank  sincerity,  relieved  by  a  little  of  the  sub- 
acidity  of  temper  which  distinguished  Mr.  Shandy, 
and  rather  too  much  aptitude  to  go  off  at  half-cock  ; 
Burnet,  mild  and  gentlemanlike,  fond  of  pleasure  and 
of  elegant  letters,  and  intended  by  nature  and  educa 
tion  for  a  wider  and  more  brilliant  sphere,  and  whose 
gentle  nature  was  not  made  of  stubborn  stuff  enough 
to  bear  up  against  the  perpetual  dropping  of  the 
petty  vexations  which  he  encountered  in  his  official 
duties,  and  the  dislike  with  which  his  genial  propen 
sities  were  regarded  by  the  sterner  religionists  of  the 
day.  I  think  that  he  was  my  aunt's  favorite ;  but 
then  his  reign  was  contemporary  with  her  own,  and 
she  looked  upon  him  and  his  court  with  the  eyes  of 
eighteen.  Then  came  Belcher,  plain,  serious,  digni 
fied,  whose  appearance  and  conversation  indicated  a 
sound  judgment  and  a  cultivated  mind,  but  whose 
character,  though  acceptable  to  the  colonists  as  one 
of  themselves,  and  of  interests  identical  with  their 
own,  did  not  find  equal  favor  with  his  predecessor  in 
the  eyes  of  a  lively  young  woman  who  loved  to  hear 
of  the  court  of  Anne  and  George,  and  of  the  brilliant 
constellation  of  wits  which  shed  its  selectest  influ 
ences  in  that  period  of  Burnet's  life  when  he  was  the 
chosen  companion  of  Addison,  Pope,  Steele,  and  Con- 
greve.  Next  appeared  the  elegant,  versatile  Shirley, 
intelligent,  graceful,  full  of  nice  tact,  which  stood 
him  in  good  stead  in  his  public  as  well  as  private  life. 
He  was  the  only  one  of  the  colonial  governors  who 
so  laid  the  course  of  the  ship  of  state  as  to  avail 


OLD   HOUSES.  337 

himself  both  of  the  tide  of  royal  favor  and  of  the 
shifting  gales  of  the  popular  breath,  and  to  keep  the 
helm  for  nearly  eighteen  years.  His  was  a  glorious 
reign  too. 

During  his  supremacy,  Louisburg  fell,  —  an  event 
ever  memorable  in  New  England  history.  With 
what  interest  would  my  good  aunt  describe  the  in 
tense  anxiety  which  filled  every  heart  while  the  fate 
of  the  expedition  was  uncertain  !  and  then  the  trans 
ports  of  joy  with  which  the  news  of  its  complete  and 
almost  unhoped  for  success  was  received,  the  ser 
mons,  the  illuminations,  the  oxen  roasted  whole,  the 
oceans  of  punch,  the  broached  hogsheads  of  wine; 
for  in  those  days  temperance  societies  were  not. 
Mrs.  Champion  looked  upon  this  victory  as  totally 
eclipsing  all  the  military  glories  of  the  Revolution 
ary  War,  and  indeed  it  was  not  surpassed  by  any 
single  action  of  that  great  struggle :  as  for  Sir  Wil 
liam  Pepperell,  why,  General  Washington  was  a  fool 
to  him. 

Then  came  Pownal,  gay,  hearty,  jovial,  whose  bril 
liant  balls  and  gay  dinners  almost  made  my  dear 
aunt  forgive  his  leaning  to  the  popular  side.  His 
festivity  of  temper  and  the  gay  coterie  with  which 
he  had  surrounded  himself  made  her  sorry,  I  am 
sure,  though  she  would  never  admit  it,  when  he  was 
removed  to  make  way  for  the  less  accommodating 
nature  of  Sir  Francis  Bernard,  whose  saturnine  tem 
perament  and  impracticable  temper  made  him  a  suita 
ble  lever  in  the  hands  of  an  infatuated  ministry  to 
22 


338  OLD  HOUSES. 

detach  entirely  and  forever  the  American  Continent 
from  the  British  Empire. 

Then  how  many  tales  she  had  to  tell  of  pre-revolu- 
tionary  festivities,  of  the  old  aristocratic  families, 
too  many  of  which  are  now  extinct,  or  scattered  by 
the  Revolutionary  storm  over  foreign  lands  !  And 
again:  there  were  sadder  stories  of  later  days,  —  the 
bitter  scenes  which  preceded  the  flight  of  the  Tories 
from  their  native  land,  when  they  stood,  a  small 
phalanx,  surrounded  by  a  host  of  the  bitterest  foes, 
filled  with  a  jealousy  and  hatred  even  surpassing 
that  of  warring  brothers ;  and  when,  the  cruelest  of 
all,  the  flame  of  discord  raged  in  almost  every  family, 
destroying  all  the  charities  of  domestic  life,  and  alien 
ating  fathers  from  sons,  and  daughters  from  mothers. 
And  then,  when  the  confident  hope  which  they  had 
entertained,  of  the  power  of  the  British  Government 
to  protect  them,  at  last  failed  them ;  when  the  report 
— at  first  disbelieved,  and  more  dreadful  than  the  rebel 
cannon  —  was  confirmed,  that  the  town  was  to  be 
evacuated ;  what  consternation  filled  all  their  hearts ! 
To  stay  would  be  to  encounter  the  rage  of  the  rebels 
flushed  with  victory :  to  fly,  perhaps  forever,  from 
all  the  scenes  they  loved  best,  would  be  to  leave  their 
estates  to  certain  confiscation,  and  to  reduce  them 
selves  to  a  miserable  dependence  on  the  precarious 
bounty  of  the  British  king.  What  agonies  of  indecis 
ion,  what  years  of  suffering,  were  crowded  into  those 
few  hours  !  what  heart-breakings,  when  the  most  ob 
noxious  resolved  on  flight!  what  leave-takings  of 


OLD   HOUSES.  339 

parents  and  children,  of  brothers  and  sisters,  of  hus 
bands  and  wives  !  what  partings  — 

"Such  as  press 
The  life  from  out  young  hearts." 

of  the  beloved  and  the  betrothed !  — some,  alas !  never 
to  meet  again,  and  others  not  till  years  of  sorrow  and  of 
hope  deferred  had  changed  their  countenances,  and 
perhaps  chilled  their  hearts. 

Then  she  would  tell  melancholy  tales  of  how  the 
condition  of  the  refugees  was  changed  from  that 
palmy  state  which  their  better  days  had  known,  of 
the  neglect  they  encountered,  of  the  poverty  they 
endured;  some  of  them  long  lingering  out  a  sordid 
existence  in  obscure  parts  of  London  on  the  pittance 
which  their  royal  master  allowed  them,  buried  in  the 
utter  solitude  of  a  great  city;  some  ending  their 
days  in  the  King's  Bench ;  the  most  fortunate  pass 
ing  the  rest  of  their  lives  in  an  honorable  exile,  in 
some  petty  official  station  in  the  pestilential  climate 
of  a  sugar  island. 

I  do  not  know  whether  it  is  from  the  sympathy 
which  naturally  springs  from  the  contemplation  of 
great  reverses  in  private  life,  when  we  are  far  enough 
removed  from  the  distorting  passions  of  contempora 
ries,  or  whether  it  is  that  I  caught  the  infection  of 
my  good  aunt's  enthusiasm,  still,  though  I  reverence 
the  fathers  of  our  liberty,  and  am  on  principle  of  the 
Revolutionary  side,  I  must  confess  that  I  do  love 
the  Tories.  I  am  glad  that  I  was  not  old  enough  at 


340  OLD  HOUSES. 

that  time  to  take  an  active  part  on  either  side  of  the 
divisions  that  then  rent  society  asunder  —  for  I  am 
afraid  that  I  should  have  been  a  Whig. 

Mrs.  Champion  herself  was  bound  to  the  soil  by 
too  many  ties  of  offspring  and  kindred  to  be  able  to 
break  away.  And  happy  for  her  it  was,  or  perhaps 
she  would  have  died  of  a  broken,  homesick  heart, 
like  her  sister,  or  perished  beneath  the  sun  of  Jamaica, 
like  her  two  brothers,  instead  of  attaining  a  happy 
old  age,  attended  with  all  that  should  accompany  it, 
honored  even  by  those  who  abhorred  her  loyalty. 

The  mention  of  my  dear  old  aunt  has  led  me  far 
away  from  my  theme ;  but  it  is  hard  to  check  the 
procession  of  images  which  her  name  conjures  up  to 
my  imagination.  Let  us  return  to  the  present  day, 
and  contemplate  one  or  two  of  the  yet  surviving 
localities  of  her  happier  hours,  and  mourn  over  those 
that  have  vanished. 

The  old  Province  House  —  for  about  a  century 
the  centre  of  that  world  which  was  comprehended 
within  the  bounds  of  Massachusetts  Bay  —  still 
stands  ;  but  how  shorn  of  its  beams  !  After  passing 
through  a  variety  of  evil  fortunes,  it  is  now  an 
eating-house ;  and  those  apartments  which  a  cen 
tury  ago  beheld  the  assembled  wisdom,  wit,  and 
beauty  of  the  Province,  and  witnessed  the  elegant 
hospitality  of  the  foremost  man  of  all  that  little 
world,  now  see  nothing  but  greasy  citizens,  impa 
tient  for  their  dinner,  or  clamorous  for  their  grog. 
It  still  bears  some  traces  of  its  better  days  in  the 


OLD   HOUSES.  341 

iron  railings,  the  freestone  steps,  and  some  of  the 
ornaments  of  its  front.  It  has  the  air  of  some 
ancient  gentleman,  who,  after  spending  his  youth 
and  manhood  in  a  sphere  suited  to  his  rank,  is  re 
duced  in  his  old  age  to  some  unworthy,  perhaps 
menial,  condition:  whatever  may  be  his  employ 
ment,  and  however  dilapidated  his  dress,  you  feel 
that  he  is  not  in  his  right  place.  The  old  Indian, 
too,  still  bends  his  bow  above  its  roof,  and  not  with 
out  his  legend,  which  used  to  tell  my  wondering 
boyhood  that  at  midnight,  just  as  the  clock  struck 
twelve,  the  bowstring  twanged,  and  the  shaft  sped 
away  into  unknown  worlds,  —  whither,  I  neither 
asked  nor  cared.  I  troubled  not  my  head  with  scep 
tical  inquiries  into  mysteries  which  are  the  province 
of  unseen  powers.  Its  ample  courtyard,  which  had 
beheld  many  a  military  and  many  a  civil  pomp,  has 
been  long  since  filled  up  with  a  staring  row  of 
vulgar  modern  brick  houses,  presuming,  like  some 
upstarts  newly  rich,  to  turn  their  backs  upon  their 
betters.  An  envious  screen !  And  yet  I  do  not 
know  but  that  it  is  now  more  pleasing  to  the  genius 
of  the  place  to  have  its  wreck  of  former  greatness 
thus  shielded  from  the  common  gaze.  I  think  it 
may  save  the  stout  old  walls  some  blushes. 

Reader,  be  pleased  to  exercise  at  my  bidding  that 
wonder-working  power  which  we  all  possess,  and 
sweep  away  that  mass  of  brick  and  mortar,  replant 
the  noble  trees,  and  restore  the  fine  old  pile  to  its 
pristine  splendor.  Conjure  up  the  men  and  boys  of 


342  OLD   HOUSES. 

a  hundred  years  ago,  and,  as  you  love  me,  forget 
not  the  women.  It  is  a  lovely  day  in  June.  All 
the  world  is  abroad.  The  country  seems  to  be  super 
induced  upon  the  town.  It  must  be  some  special 
holiday.  It  is,  indeed,  the  greatest  of  the  year, 
always  saving  and  excepting  Commencement.  It  is 
the  feast  of  the  ANCIENT  AND  HONORABLE  ARTILLERY 
COMPANY,  the  most  ancient  military  institution  in 
the  United  States,  and  which  was  regarded  at  its 
creation  with  a  jealous  eye  by  our  prudent  ancestors, 
forewarned  by  the  example  "  of  the  Prretorian  Band 
among  the  Eomans  and  the  Knights-Templars  in 
Europe."  There  they  are,  drawn  up  martially  before 
the  gate,  ready  to  take  up  the  escort.  Their  presence 
has  just  been  intimated  to  the  Governor.  The  door 
opens,  and,  surrounded  by  a  splendid  cortege,  his 
Excellency  appears.  Observe  his  collarless  scarlet 
coat,  richly  laced  with  gold,  his  embroidered  white 
satin  waistcoat,  his  scarlet  breeches,  white  silk  stock 
ings,  high  quartered  shoes  and  gold  buckles,  and 
neglect  not  to  remark  the  cut  steel  handle  of  his 
dress-sword.  Mark  with  what  an  old-school  grace 
he  takes  up  his  cocked  hat,  and  advances  bowingly 
forwards  in  acknowledgment  of  the  lowered  pikes, 
presented  firelocks,  and  rolling  drums  of  the  citizen 
soldiers,  and  the  hearty  shouts  of  the  gazing  crowd. 
Would  that  time  would  serve  us  to  follow  the  pro 
cession  to  the  Old  Brick,  and  listen  to  a  sermon 
containing  matter  enough  to  furnish  forth  a  century 
of  the  delicate  discourses  of  our  times  !  Thence  we 


OLD   HOUSES.  343 

might  repair  to  the  well-spread  board ;  and,  when 
those  rites  have  been  duly  solemnized,  we  might 
accompany  them  to  the  Common,  and  witness,  with 
a  generation  long  vanished,  the  ceremonies  of  the 
pomp  and  circumstance  of  which  we  have  now  but 
a  type.  And  then  the  brilliant  evening,  when  his 
Excellency  threw  open  his  doors  to  a  polished  and 
elegant  circle  unsurpassed  at  any  subsequent  period ! 
But  something  too  much  of  this. 

It  is  about  four  years  since  I  took  a  melancholy 
walk  to  the  North  End,  to  take  a  last  farewell  of  one 
of  the  few  historical  houses  which  then  survived.  I 
mean  the  mansion  of  Governor  Hutchinson,  a  man 
whose  name  will  by  degrees  lose  much  of  the  odium 
with  which  the  unfortunate  view  which  he  took  of  the 
interests  of  his  country  has  invested  it,  and  whose 
faults  will  be  thought,  perhaps,  by  posterity,  to  have 
been  expiated  by  his  misfortunes.  When  I  arrived, 
the  hand  of  destruction  was  already  there.  The  house 
was  disembowelled,  the  windows  gone,  and  the  whole 
scene  presented  an  air  of  desolation  which  would  have 
transported  a  less  vivid  imagination  than  mine  to  the 
morning  —  seventy  years  since  —  which  succeeded  the 
night,  disgraceful  in  our  annals,  when  a  brutal  and 
inebriated  mob  made  a  ruin  of  the  finest  house  in  the 
Province,  and,  what  was  worse,  destroyed  collections 
for  the  loss  of  which  our  history  must  ever  mourn. 
The  political  magicians  of  that  day,  who  foresaw  the 
tempest  which  was  brewing,  and  thought  that  they 
could  so  direct  the  storm  as  to  produce  only  the  good 


344  OLD   HOUSES. 

effects  of  a  wholesome  agitation  of  the  political  atmos 
phere,  found,  too  late,  that  in  fostering  the  mob-spirit 
they  had  evoked  a  devil  which  they  could  neither 
control  nor  lay,  and  which,  once  raised,  seems  like  to 
become  the  master  of  their  descendants.  It  will  be 
many  years  before  we  shall  see  another  house  at  all 
comparable  to  this  one  of  the  last  age,  either  in  its 
architectural  excellence,  or  the  substantial  elegance  of 
its  internal  economy. 

From  the  ruins  of  this  edifice  and  those  of  one 
other  adjoining  house  of  one  of  the  old  Tory  families 
— which  well  deserves  a  separate  essay  for  its  descrip 
tion  —  have  sprung  a  crop  of  SIXTEEN  fine  new  brick 
houses,  all  stark  alike,  as  if  they  had  been  run  in  the 
same  mould,  meaningless,  soulless  masses  of  matter. 
How  heavily  must  their  weight  lie  upon  his  soul  who 
effected  the  change !  I  would  not  have  such  a  load 
on  my  conscience  for  the  world. 

Another  venerable  monument  of  a  former  genera 
tion  has  since  bowed  its  head  in  the  dust,  and  given 
place  also  to  a  crowd  of  upstart  heirs,  who  perk  their 
commonplace,  vulgar  visages  in  your  face  as  if  they 
were  of  better  worth  than  the  noble  ancestral  stock 
from  which  they  sprung.  It  was  the  residence  of  Sir 
William  Phipps.  That "  fair  brick  house  in  the  Green 
Lane  of  North  Boston,"  which,  before  the  tide  of  his 
affairs  had  turned,  he  prophetically  boasted  to  his  un 
believing  spouse  that  he  would  one  day  possess,  is  for 
ever  gone  ;  and  the  fine  old  height,  from  which  it  once 
proudly  surveyed  the  country  round,  is  the  abode  of  a 


OLD  HOUSES.  345 

brick-aud-mortar  monster,  compared  with  which  the 
gerrymander  was  grace  and  proportion  itself.  This 
stately  house,  to  which  the  adventurous  boy  had 
looked  forward  as  the  summit  of  human  hopes  when 
he  was  keeping  sheep  at  Casco  Bay,  or  wielding  the 
adze  and  the  hammer  in  one  of  the  shipyards  of  Bos 
ton,  was  completed  after  his  extraordinary  enterprise 
had  been  crowned  with  remarkable  success,  when  the 
hand  of  majesty  had  laid  the  honor  of  knighthood  on 
his  shoulder,  and  the  poor  journeyman  mechanic  had 
returned  to  his  native  land  invested  with  its  highest 
dignity.  It  is  well  that  corporations  have  no  souls, 
or  I  fear  that  the  one  which  delivered  up  this  last 
stronghold  of  the  past  into  the  hands  of  the  Philis 
tines  would  stand  in  fearful  peril  of  utter  perdition. 

There  is,  however,  still  standing  an  abode  of  less 
aristocratic  pretensions,  but  of  more  illustrious  associ 
ations,  than  those  just  celebrated.  It  is  the  house  in 
which  Benjamin  Franklin  spent  his  early  years.  It 
makes  the  corner  of  Hanover  and  Union  Streets  on 
your  right  hand  as  you  go  towards  the  North  End 
from  Court  Street,  and  may  be  distinguished  by  a  ball 
protruding  as  a  sign,  with  the  date  1698.  I  have 
somewhere  seen  a  letter  from  Doctor  Franklin,  in 
which  he  says  that  he  was  born  in  this  house ;  but 
accurate  antiquarians  who  have  carefully  investigated 
the  subject  are  of  opinion  that  his  father  did  not  re 
move  to  this  house  till  after  the  Doctor's  birth  ;  which 
they  assert  took  place  in  a  house  (now,  of  course, 
demolished)  which  stood  on  the  site  of  Barker's  fur- 


346  OLD  HOUSES. 

niture  warehouse  in  Milk  Street,  a  little  lower  down 
than  the  Old  South  Church,  on  the  other  side.  How 
ever  this  may  be,  whether  Milk  Street  or  Hanover 
Street  may  boast  of  having  witnessed  the  entrance  of 
the  great  philosopher  on  the  scene  which  he  so  long 
adorned,  still  we  may  be  sure  that  those  unpretending 
walls  beheld  the  first  dawning  of  his  infant  intellect, 
and  were  associated  with  his  earliest  recollections. 
It  was  from  that  door  that  the  self-complacent  urchin 
issued  with  his  pocket  full  of  coppers  on  that  famous 
holiday  morning  when  he  exchanged  all  his  treasure 
for  the  ever-memorable  whistle,  and  with  it  bought 
the  experience,  which,  comprised  within  the  compass 
of  a  proverb,  he  has  added  to  the  stock  of  the  world's 
wisdom.  It  was  in  that  cellar,  that,  in  his  early 
economy  of  time,  he  shocked  his  worthy  progenitor 
by  proposing  to  have  grace  said  in  the  lump  over  the 
whole  barrel  of  beef  which  he  was  putting  down, 
instead  of  over  each  piece  in  detail  as  it  came  to  the 
table.  Here,  too,  it  was,  that  his  father,  patriarch-like, 
sat  at  his  table  surrounded  by  thirteen  grown-up  chil 
dren  ;  of  which  numerous  race  I  believe  there  is  not 
a  single  descendant  extant,  certainly  not  of  the  name. 
It  was  to  this  home,  too,  that  young  Franklin  returned, 
after  his  successful  elopement  to  Philadelphia,  with  a 
fine  coat  upon  his  back,  and  money  in  his  pocket  — • 
the  admiration  of  his  parents  and  the  envy  of  his 
brethren.  If  walls  had  tongues  as  well  as  ears,  what 
histories  might  not  these  unfold !  Eeader,  if  you  are 
worthy  to  look  upon  this  hallowed  scene,  make  haste, 


OLD   HOUSES.  347 

delay  not  your  pilgrimage  till  to-morrow,  nor  even 
till  after  dinner ;  for,  even  while  I  write,  its  fate  may 
be  sealed  and  its  destruction  begun.  In  other  coun 
tries  the  roofs  which  have  sheltered  less  eminent  men 
than  Benjamin  Franklin  are  preserved  with  filial  rev 
erence,  and  visited  with  pilgrim  devotion.  It  should 
be  so  here. 

Both  time  and  patience  would  fail  me  if  I  were  to 
recount  at  large  the  other  deeds  of  destruction  which 
have  been  worked  out  within  a  few  years  past.  The 
mansion-house  of  the  Faneuils,  with  its  princely 
courtyard  and  old  French  palace-like  front,  with  the 
grotesque  heads  grinning  from  the  tops  of  the  win 
dows  ;  the  house  of  the  Vassalls,  the  headquarters 
of  Lord  Percy  during  the  siege,  and  afterwards  the 
abode  of  Mrs.  Hayley,  the  sister  of  John  Wilkes, 
with  its  hanging-gardens  terraced  to  the  summit  of 
one  of  the  original  peaks  of  old  Trimountain  ;  the 
hospitable  home  of  the  Bowdoins,  eloquent  of  the 
past  —  they  are  all  vanished.  The  very  soil  on 
which  they  stood  is  removed,  and  cast  into  the  sea. 

I  have  lived  long,  and  seen  many  changes.  The 
friends  of  my  early  years  are  mostly  cold,  either  in 
death  or  in  estrangement.  The  grand-daughters  of 
my  early  loves  now  reign  in  their  stead.  The  world 
is  governed  by  a  generation  yet  unborn  when  my 
career  of  active  life  began.  I  have  seen  heresies  in 
politics  and  in  religion  usurp  the  rightful  supremacy 
of  the  good  old  orthodox  platform.  I  have  witnessed 
the  decline  of  hoops,  the  desuetude  of  powder,  the 


348  OLD  HOUSES. 

almost  total  extinction  of  breeches.  The  last  of  the 
cocked  hats,  too,  has  set  forever,  and  is,  like  the  lost 
Pleiad,  "  seen  no  more  below."  I  have  beheld  divin- 
est  punch  driven  forth  from  the  society  of  polite 
man,  and  forced  to  take  refuge  in  the  grogshops. 
Even  Madeira's  generous  juice  have  I  seen  elbowed 
aside  by  pretending  coxcombs  from  the  south  of 
France  and  the  Khine.  But  stay  !  I  take  back  the 
disparaging  epithet.  One  is  too  apt  to  undervalue  the 
merits  of  newer  friends  when  they  interfere  with  the 
modest  claims  of  long-tried  and  well-known  worth. 
I  will  not  be  unjust  to  the  newer  excellence  of 

"  The  gay,  serene,  good-natured  Burgundy, 
And  the  fresh  fragrant  vintage  of  the  Rhine  ;  " 

but  surely,  surely  for  the  solid,  serious  drinking  that 
man  came  into  the  world  to  do,  Madeira  is  the  only 
satisfying  good. 

All  these  changes,  however,  have  stolen  so  gradu 
ally  upon  me,  that  my  natural  and  acquired  disin 
clination  to  change  has  not  been  rudely  shocked. 
The  times  have  changed,  and  I  have  changed  with 
them.  But  the  violence  that  is  done  to  my  steadfast 
nature  by  the  sudden  and  total  demolition  of  my  old 
companion  walls,  the  very  scenes  of  my  youthful 
pleasures,  is  mitigated  by  no  gradual  and  stealthy 
approach.  The  pickaxe  enters  into  my  soul.  The 
difficult  tug  which  in  the  death-grapple  can  hardly 
bring  the  sturdy  old  walls  to  the  ground,  too  roughly 
tears  the  web  of  remembered  joys.  I  rejoice  to  think 


OLD   HOUSES.  349 

that  I  shall  not  remain  long  enough  behind  to  behold 
the  utter  extinction  of  all  of  my  old  familiar  friends. 
This  roof,  at  least,  under  which  I  write,  and  which 
has  sheltered  more  than  four  generations  of  my  an 
cestors,  will  remain  to  be  the  abode  of  my  age.  It 
cannot  yield  to  Vandal  force  until  I  have  exchanged 
its  friendly  shelter  for  "  the  house  appointed  for  all 
living." 


DINAH    ROLLINS. 


DINAH    ROLLINS. 


ALL  the  world  knows  that  the  blessings  of  the 
patriarchal  system  were  not  always  monopo 
lized  by  our  Southern  brethren.  New  England,  also, 
once  rejoiced  in  its  benign  influences.  Although  the 
fathers  of  New  England  did  not  exactly  make 
"slavery  the  corner-stone  of  their  republican  insti 
tutions"  (for  the  science  of  political  ethics  was  then 
in  its  infancy),  still  they  were  not  so  fanatical  as 
wholly  to  reject  it  from  the  fabric  of  their  new  State. 
The  scarcity  of  laborers  in  those  early  days  reconciled 
some  of  them  to  a  system,  which,  when  first  pro 
posed,  they  rejected  with  abhorrence ;  and  the  obvi 
ous  convenience  of  having  their  work  done  without 
having  to  pay  for  it  might  well  help  to  silence  any 
fantastic  scruples  as  to  the  justice  of  the  arrange 
ment.  Others,  again,  in  whom  the  religious  principle 
predominated  over  the  economical,  thought  they 
discerned  the  finger  of  Providence  indicating  the 
spiritual  things  which  were  to  be  imparted  to  the 
involuntary  immigrants  in  exchange  for  their  carnal 

23 


354  DINAH  ROLLINS. 

things ;  and  they  hailed  every  fresh  importation  of 
African  heathens  as  so  much  raw  material  to  be 
worked  up  into  American  Christians,  and  thus,  before 
the  inception  of  the  foreign  or  domestic  missionary 
enterprises,  united  the  benefits  of  the  former  plan 
with  the  conveniences  of  the  latter.  The  privilege 
of  extending  the  advantages  of  modern  civilization 
and  Christianity  to  these  savage  and  Pagan  strangers, 
whose  experience  of  both  during  the  middle  passage 
would  favorably  prepare  them  for  their  reception, 
reconciled  these  good  men  to  any  apparent  hardship 
in  the  mode  of  bringing  their  neophytes  within  the 
sphere  of  their  influences.  The  happy  project  of 
reshipping  them  or  their  descendants  to  their  na 
tive  country,  after  they  had  been  fully  saturated  with 
the  blessings  of  that  of  their  adoption,  had  not  then 
been  developed,  or  the  philanthropy  of  their  bene 
factors  would  have  received  a  new  impulse  from  the 
beatific  vision  of  these  new  apostles  carrying  back 
the  civilization  and  religion  they  had  learned  during 
their  sojourn  in  this  favored  land  to  that  of  their 
birth  ;  which,  if  truly  reported  to  their  savage  coun 
trymen  as  preached  and  practised  by  the  vast 
majority  of  ministers  and  people  of  almost  every 
denomination,  could  not  fail  of  awakening  in  their 
breasts  a  holy  emulation,  and  of  inducing  an  in 
stant  renunciation  of  their  favorite  barbarisms  of 
fighting,  killing,  and  enslaving  one  another.  Not 
withstanding  this  disadvantage,  our  good  ancestors 
satisfied  their  consciences  as  well  as  they  were  able, 


DINAH  ROLLINS.  355 

in  one  way  or  another,  and  submitted  to  be  served 
without  wages  with  the  best  grace  they  could.  In 
justice  to  their  memories,  however,  it  should  be  said 
that  New  England  slavery  was  the  very  mildest 
form  of  involuntary  servitude.  The  nature  of  the 
agricultural  and  mechanical  productions  of  that  day, 
the  difficult  communication  and  comparatively  infre 
quent  intercourse  between  the  different  Colonies,  and 
the  severe  morality  which  marked  the  character  of 
that  peculiar  people,  prevented  the  overworking  of 
the  slaves,  the  separation  of  families  and  disruption 
of  natural  ties,  and  that  toleration,  if  not  compulsion, 
of  the  grossest  vice  and  licentiousness  which  form 
the  most  hideous  features  of  the  system  as  it  exists 
at  the  present  day  in  this  country.  Tradition  re 
lates  that  the  old  slaves  often  ruled  with  almost 
absolute  sway  over  the  farmhouses  in  which  they 
had  passed  their  lives,  while  by  the  wealthier  fami 
lies  they  were  frequently  indulged  more  like  spoiled 
children  than  favorite  domestics.  Many  circum 
stances  might  be  related  to  show  that  the  value  of 
"  this  peculiar  species  of  property  "  was  very  different 
in  those  days  and  these  ;  or  else  that  our  fathers  were 
not  the  wise  men  in  their  generation  that  they  are 
reputed  to  have  been.  I  will  only  mention  the  ad 
vertisements  which  are  not  unfrequently  found  in 
the  curious  little  newspapers  of  the  times,  to  this 
effect :  "  To  BE  GIVEN  AWAY,  a  likely  negro  child  of 
five  years  old ;  apply  to  the  printer."  Now,  among 
the  many  modern  slave  advertisements  which  I  have 


356  DINAH   ROLLINS. 

consulted,  whether  in  the  columns  of  Southern  news 
papers  themselves,  or  when  transferred  to  the  collec 
tions  of  the  curious  in  such  matters,  as  affording  the 
most  indisputable,  unimpeachable  evidence  of  the 
true  character  of  the  system  (unless,  indeed,  it  be 
true,  as  was  once  suggested  to  me  by  an  elderly 
gentleman  of  respectable  appearance  in  a  stage 
coach,  that  they  are  inserted  in  the  Southern  papers 
by  the  abolitionists,  for  the  purpose  of  making  an 
impression  at  the  North),  it  never  has  been  my  for 
tune  to  light  upon  an  advertisement  of  this  descrip 
tion.  Now,  as  generosity  is  well  known  to  be  the 
inseparable  companion  of  chivalry,  it  cannot  be  sup 
posed  that  the  absence  of  such  advertisements  is 
owing  to  any  lack  of  a  giving  spirit.  It  must  be 
accounted  for  either  by  modesty,  which  shrinks  from 
such  a  parade  of  liberal  designs,  or  by  a  change  in 
the  value  of  the  gift,  which  makes  such  a  proclama 
tion  unnecessary  in  order  to  find  one  willing  to  ac 
cept  it.  The  reader  must  settle  this  point  for  himself 
while  I  proceed  to  my  historiette. 

It  was  in  that  world  before  wages,  but  towards 
the  close  of  those  happy  days  of  primitive  simplicity, 
that  our  heroine  made  her  first  appearance  upon  this 
disjointed  scene  of  things.  She  was  "  born,"  about 
seventy  years  since,  "in  the  house"  of  Judge  Eollins 
of  Somersworth,  N.H.,  —  a  circumstance,  which,  we 
learn  from  high  authority,  brought  her  as  effect 
ually  within  the  protection  of  the  scriptural  sanc 
tions  of  slavery  as  if  she  had  been  "bought  with 


DINAH  ROLLINS.  357 

his  money." 1  If  her  master  happened  to  be  troubled 
with  any  silly  scruples  about  his  relation  to  poor 
Dinah  and  his  other  slaves,  it  is  a  thousand  pities 
that  he  lived  too  soon  to  enjoy  the  ghostly  consola 
tions  just  quoted,  and  others  equally  cogent  and  to 
the  point;  as,  for  example,  the  positions  recently 
maintained  by  a  reverend  divine  (Rev.  E.  Fuller  of 
Beaufort,  S.C.),  that  "the  domestic  relations  here 
existing"  are  authorized  by  God,  not  condemned 
by  Jesus  Christ,  and  "  expressly  authorized  "  by  the 
Holy  Ghost;  and  that  consequently  their  condem 
nation  by  abolitionists  is  "  a  direct  insult  to  the 
Unchangeable  and  Holy  One  of  heaven."2  In  de 
fault  of  such  comforters,  however,  Judge  Eollius  and 
his  family  appear  to  have  quieted  their  conscien 
tious  scruples,  if  they  had  any,  by  treating  their 
slaves  in  the  kindest  manner.  As  long  as  any  of 
the  family  survived,  Dinah  remained  an  affectionate 
inmate  of  their  household.  At  length,  however,  the 
Eollins  family  became  extinct,  as  was  the  case  with 
many  others  of  the  old  New  Hampshire  families, 
which  helped  to  transmute  the  most  aristocratic  of  the 
Colonies  into  the  most  democratic  of  the  States  ;  and 
poor  Dinah  was  left  without  anybody  to  take  care  of 
her.  The  reader  will  perhaps  conclude  from  this, 

1  See  the  passage  on  this  subject  in  the  work  on  Moral  Philoso 
phy  by  the  Rev.  Jasper  Adams,  D.D.,  president  of  the  college  in 
Charleston,  S.C. 

2  See  his  Letter  to  the  Rev.  Elon  Galusha,  in  the  Recorder  and 
Watchman. 


358  DINAH  ROLLINS. 

her  unhappy  predicament,  that  she  either  imme 
diately  took  to  begging,  if  not  to  stealing,  or  else 
transported  her  poverty  to  another  State,  or  at  best 
came  upon  the  parish.  No  such  consequences  en 
sued,  although  we  are  credibly  assured  that  such 
must  be  the  inevitable  effects  of  emancipation.  She 
migrated  no  farther  than  Portsmouth,  where  she  ob 
tained  an  honest  livelihood  by  serving  as  hostler  in 
a  livery-stable. 

I  apprehend  that  a  less  authentic  historian  than 
myself,  priding  himself  on  the  dignity,  rather  than 
the  truth  of  his  narrative,  might  be  tempted  to  soften 
this  circumstance,  if  not  to  suppress  it  entirely  ;  for 
in  the  course  of  a  pretty  extensive  and  careful  circle 
of  studies,  including  most  of  the  Annuals  and  Souve 
nirs  of  the  last  dozen  years,  and  other  kindred 
branches  of  literature,  I  do  not  remember  to  have  read 
of  a  single  heroine,  whatever  might  have  been  the 
extremity  or  the  variety  of  her  distress,  who  was 
reduced  to  rub  down  horses,  and  sweep  out  stables, 
for  her  support.  I  am  apprehensive,  too,  lest  my 
Dinah  should  seem  to  some  masters  in  our  Israel  to 
have  been  "impatient  of  her  proper  sphere,"  and 
to  have  "  stepped  forth  to  assume  the  duties  of  the 
man  "  in  her  choice  of  a  field  of  labor ;  and  that  she 
may  even  come  within  the  range  of  the  fulminations 
of  the  Pastoral  Letter  of  the  Massachusetts  General 
Association  of  Congregational  Ministers,  and  be  ex 
posed  to  be  likened  unto  "a  vine,  whose  strength 
and  beauty  is  to  lean  upon  the  trellis-work,  and  half 


DINAH  ROLLINS.  359 

conceal  its  clusters,"  but  which  "thinks  to  assume 
the  independence  and  overshadowing  nature  of  the 
elm."  I  am  concerned,  also,  lest  a  distinguished 
gentleman  who  stands  in  the  first  rank,  if  not  in 
the  first  place,  of  our  Kepublic  of  Letters,  and  who 
has  lately  discoursed  eloquently  to  an  elegant  audi 
ence  on  the  sphere  of  woman,  or  some  of  his 
admirers  (should  this  little  story  fall  under  the  ob 
servation  of  any  of  them),  may  condemn  her  as 
deficient  in  that  perfect  propriety  and  feminine  deli 
cacy,  which  form  the  chief  ornaments  of  the  sex. 
My  business,  however,  is  to  relate  facts,  and  not  to 
extenuate  them,  and  I  must  leave  poor  Dinah  to 
the  mercy  of  all  censors,  whether  clerical  or  laic, 
who  may  choose  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  her.  I 
must,  in  justice,  however,  state,  that,  great  as  may 
have  been  her  deviation  in  this  particular  from  the 
gentle  elegancies  and  graceful  proprieties  of  perfect 
womanhood,  it  was  not  owing  to  anything  unfeminine 
in  her  education.  I  am  not  sure  that  she  is  even 
possessed  of  those  elements  of  reading  and  writing, 
which,  according  to  Dogberry,  "  come  by  nature ; " 
and  I  think  that  I  can  assure  the  fastidious  reader 
that  she  is  perfectly  innocent  of  the  knowledge  of 
the  classics,  of  metaphysics,  of  the  higher  mathe 
matics,  and,  in  general,  of  all  the  eminently  masculine 
branches  of  learning. 

Whatever  may  be  the  opinion  of  the  learned,  or 
of  posterity,  as  to  the  abstract  fitness  of  Dinah's  posi 
tion  in  the  livery-stable,  there  she  was  when  the 


360  DINAH  ROLLINS. 

circumstance  occurred  which  I  have  thought  worthy 
of  recital.  While  she  was  thus  engaged  in  the 
charge  of  steeds,  an  occupation  for  which  I  forgot  in 
the  proper  place  to  say  she  had  the  example  of  the 
Homeric  princesses  and  of  the  dames  of  chivalry, 
she  was  one  day  accosted  by  a  white  woman  who 
had  once  lived  at  service  with  her,  and  who  told  a 
piteous  tale.  She  had  spent  a  long  life  in  menial 
service,  and  after  having  drudged  for  many  years, 
and  endured  the  caprices  and  exactions  of  many 
masters,  she  was  now  in  her  old  age,  and  when  dis 
abled  from  labor  by  infirmity,  thrown  destitute  upon 
the  world.  No  resource  seemed  left  her  but  the 
alms-house,  for  which  she  entertained  the  dread 
so  common  to  honest  poverty,  and  which  seems  to 
argue  some  vice  in  the  system,  which  cannot  be  en 
tirely  subdued,  even  when  it  is  administered  in  the 
most  humane  and  enlightened  manner.  It  was  a 
common  tale,  and  of  every-day  distress,  such  as  would 
excite  but  little  attention  at  the  corners  of  the  streets  ; 
but  it  went  straight  to  the  good  heart  of  Dinah. 
Here  was  an  old  friend  in  want,  and  what  could  she 
do  for  her  ?  When  the  heart  is  opened  to  receive  a 
friend  in  distress,  the  door  does  not  long  remain 
closed.  If  the  heart  is  large  enough,  the  house 
is  seldom  found  too  small.  Accordingly,  Dinah 
soon  remembered  that  her  habitation,  though  small 
enough  for  one,  was  still  large  enough  for  two.  And 
as  for  the  increased  expenses  of  her  establishment 
—  why,  she  must  work  the  harder  to  meet  them, 


DINAH  ROLLINS.  361 

that  was  all.  Her  plan  was  soon  arranged  in  her 
mind,  and  as  speedily  reduced  to  practice.  She  took 
her  old  companion  to  her  humble  home,  and  has 
ever  since  (it  is  now  several  years)  shared  it  and 
all  that  it  contains  with  her.  So  little  did  she  think 
that  she  had  done  anything  out  of  the  common  way, 
that  it  was  a  long  time  before  her  remarkable  action 
became  known.  Since  then  she  has  been  an  object 
of  interest  and  of  good  offices  to  many  benevolent 
individuals.  "What  has  seemed  most  extraordinary 
to  those  who  have  observed  her  proceedings  has 
been  the  natural  delicacy  and  good  breeding  which 
has  taught  her  so  to  dispense  her  bounty  to  her  help 
less  charge  as  to  take  from  it  the  appearance  of  an 
obligation.  This,  no  doubt,  arises  from  the  circum 
stance,  that  she  does  not  think  of  herself  as  confer 
ring  one;  and  having  the  things,  benevolence  and 
forgetfulness  of  self,  it  is  but  natural  that  she  should 
possess  the  politeness  which  is  but  their  visible  sign. 
If  she  had  ever  read  Cicero  (which,  as  I  have  already 
observed,  I  do  not  think  probable),  she  might  cite  in 
support  of  her  philosophy  the  wise  saying  of  Soc 
rates,  which  he  quotes  :  "  Whatever  you  would  seem, 
be."  I  will  mention  one  instance  of  her  delicacy  in 
her  treatment  of  her  guest,  which  will  perhaps  be 
more  highly  appreciated  by  some  of  my  readers  than 
by  others.  "  Knowing,"  as  she  said,  "  that  white  folks 
don't  like  to  have  colored  folks  live  with  them,"  and 
having  but  one  room  for  their  joint  accommodation, 
she  divided  it  into  two  parts  by  means  of  a  line 


362  DINAH  ROLLINS. 

hung  with  old  clothes,  that  she  might  give  her  guest 
a  separate  apartment  in  deference  to  her  supposed 
prejudices.  Her  conduct  in  every  respect  towards 
her  unfortunate  friend,  I  am  assured  by  those  who 
are  well  acquainted  with  the  facts,  might  serve  as  a 
model  of  disinterested  kindness  to  persons  of  much 
higher  pretensions  and  greater  advantages. 

I  was  told  this  story  during  a  visit  which  I  lately 
made  to  the  beautiful  town  of  Portsmouth,  and  I 
conceived  a  strong  desire  to  see  the  scene  and  the 
heroine  of  it.  It  was  the  annual  Thanksgiving  of 
New  Hampshire,  and  I  was  invited,  though  a  stranger, 
to  join  an  affectionate  and  accomplished  family  circle 
on  that  domestic  festival.  The  rain  poured  in  torrents ; 
but  we  heeded  it  not,  for  "  our  sunshine  was  within." 
Notwithstanding  these  inducements,  both  within 
doors  and  without,  to  stay  where  I  was,  I  stole  away 
after  dinner,  from  the  hospitable  table,  and  proceeded 
with  an  old  college  acquaintance,  one  of  the  clergy 
men  of  the  town,  to  the  abode  of  Dinah  Eollins.  She 
was  not  at  home  when  we  first  arrived  at  her  door, 
but  soon  made  her  appearance  from  a  neighboring 
alley.  And  now  shall  I  describe  her  ?  A  more  pru 
dent  historian  would  leave  his  readers  to  imagine 
how  she  looked;  but  I  feel  it  due  to  them  and  to 
Dinah  to  portray  her  appearance.  She  certainly  was 
a  very  different  person  from  the  heroines  of  the  gen 
erality  of  the  "  hot-pressed  darlings,"  which  are. 
annually  furnished  forth  by  "  the  trade "  to  friend 
ship  and  love,  as  gifts  for  Christmas  and  New  Year. 


DINAH  ROLLINS.  363 

She  would  find  herself  brought  acquainted  with 
strange  company  in  the  "Book  of  Beauty"  or  the 
"Flowers  of  Loveliness."  Her  face  was  of  the  in- 
tensest  black,  and  her  features  of  the  strongest 
African  cast;  but  still  there  was  an  expression  of 
goodness  and  benevolence  pervading  her  counte 
nance,  which,  if  it  did  not  amount  to  positive  beauty, 
at  least  made  amends  for  the  want  of  it.  She  was 
between  four  and  five  feet  high,  very  broadly  and 
strongly  built.  She  wore  a  man's  hat  upon  her 
head;  a  cloth  cape,  like  that  of  a  man's  great-coat, 
coming  down  to  her  waist,  over  her  shoulders. 

She  received  us  kindly,  and  invited  us  into  her 
house,  or  rather  room,  which  presented  a  different 
aspect,  to  be  sure,  from  the  scene  of  elegant  hospi 
tality  I  had  just  left.  The  room  contained  a  few 
rude  articles  of  furniture  and  a  stove.  The  plaster 
ing  had  parted  from  the  laths  of  the  ceiling ;  so  that 
the  sawdust  of  the  mechanic's  shop  overhead  would 
shower  down  at  times  upon  the  floor.  Within  the 
enclosure  of  counterpanes  and  old  clothes  we  found 
"  the  old  lady,"  as  Dinah  always  calls  her,  who  has 
been  bedridden  for  a  long  time,  being  eighty-four 
years  old,  and  so  deaf  as  to  be  absolutely  impervious 
to  sound.  She  seemed,  however,  sensible  of  the 
kindness  of  our  intention  in  coming  to  see  her.  The 
devotion  of  Dinah  to  her,  and  her  absolute  uncon 
sciousness  that  she  was  doing  anything  remarkable, 
was  perfectly  beautiful.  She  did  not  seem  to  know 
but  that  such  a  scene  was  acting  in  every  house 
in  Portsmouth. 


364  DINAH  ROLLINS. 

In  a  sort  of  shed  behind  her  room  she  showed  us 
a  hog  of  huge  proportions,  which  she  was  raising  for 
winter  supply,  and  also  her  harvest  of  Indian  corn, 
which  she  had  garnered  there;  for,  the  infirmities 
of  her  old  friend  requiring  more  time  than  her  office 
of  mistress  of  the  horse  could  spare,  she  had  resigned 
it,  and  turned  her  attention  to  other  more  manageable 
modes  of  getting  a  subsistence,  among  which  was 
farming  on  a  small  scale.  She  cultivated  to  good 
purpose,  as  I  should  judge  from  her  crop,  a  small 
piece  of  land  belonging  to  the  town  ;  and  to  the  honor 
of  the  town  be  it  told  that  it  refuses  to  take  any 
rent  of  her,  thus  affording  an  exception  to  the  gen 
eral  rule  that  corporations  have  no  souls.  She 
showed  us  these  stores  with  an  honest  pride,  and 
evinced  none  of  the  shame,  or  indeed  of  the  con 
sciousness,  of  poverty. 

I  do  not  know  but  some  scrupulous  persons  may 
be  disposed  to  find  fault  with  Dinah's  protegd  for 
being  willing  to  be  a  burden  upon  her  scanty  revenue. 
Possibly  some  admirer  of  the  Caucasian  race  may 
think  it  especially  unworthy  of  a  daughter  of  that 
superior  family  to  receive  her  support  from  one  of 
African  descent.  I  would  entreat  such  a  one  to 
desist  from  his  speculations  at  once,  lest  he  should 
find  himself  tampering  with  "  delicate  subjects,"  or, 
peradventure,  meddling  with  what  is  none  of  his 
business.  I  would,  however,  in  justice  to  my  old 
friend  at  Portsmouth,  say  that  she  is  kept  in  counte 
nance  by  multitudes  of  reverend  divines,  learned 


DINAH  ROLLINS.  365 

judges,  and  honorable  women  in  the  Southern  States 
who  are  provided  with  board  and  lodging,  and  sup 
plied  with   pocket-money,  by  negroes.     Nay,  more; 
that  not  a  few  of  the  most  eloquent  advocates  of  the 
rights  of  man,  and  the  boldest  opposers  of  monopo 
lies,  in  both  branches  of  the  national  Legislature,  and 
some,  at  least,  of  those  who  from  the  chair  of  state 
have  uttered  forth  the  oracles  of  democracy,  are  or 
have  been  dependent  for  their  daily  bread  and  neces 
sary  clothing  upon  the  earnings  of  colored  men  and 
women.     So  I  conceive  that  Dinah's  friend  is  borne 
out  by  the  example  of  these  illustrious  paupers,  and 
is  not  to  be  called  in  question  by  any  one  as  to  her 
means  of  subsistence.   Moreover,  it  should  be  remem 
bered  that  her  support  is  given  her  cheerfully  and 
voluntarily,  which,  it  is  said,  is  not  always  the  case 
in  the  other  instances  I  have  cited;  so  that  it  ap 
pears  the  difference  is  in  her  favor  in  the  particular 
in  which  the  cases  are  not  parallel.     I  did  not  hear, 
indeed,  of  any  attempt  on  her  part  to  flog,  brand,  or 
even  sell  her  benefactress,  upon  any  temptation  of 
pique  or  profit.     But  we  must  make  allowances  for 
the  disadvantages  of  her  former  condition  and  for 
the  defects  of  her  early  education. 

What  I  saw  and  heard  at  this  visit  seemed  to 
imply  that  slaves  may  be  able  to  take  care  of  them 
selves,  and  to  dispense  with  the  providence  of  a 
master,  without  danger  of  starvation  or  beggary.  I 
also  gathered  from  it  that  they  were  competent,  not 
only  to  take  care  of  themselves,  but  of  white  people 


366  DINAH   ROLLINS. 

too,  even  though  they  might  not  stand  to  them  in 
the  relation  of  proprietor.  Moreover,  I  perceived 
that  goodness  of  heart  and  refinement  of  feeling  are 
not  limited  by  color,  or  conferred  by  education.  I 
discovered,  too,  that  the  truest  riches  may  be  pos 
sessed  by  the  poorest  person,  and  that  there  are 
nobler  acts  of  munificence  than  those  chronicled  in 
religious  newspapers.  Grateful  for  these  lessons,  I 
took  a  kind  farewell  of  her  who  had  imparted  them, 
and  heartily  bade  God  bless  her ;  and  if  ever  I  am 
tempted  to  take  a  gloomy  view  of  life,  or  to  despair 
of  the  improvement  of  the  race,  I  shall  refresh  my 
spirit  by  reverting  to  my  interview  with  DINAH 
ROLLINS. 


University  Press :  John  Wilson  &  Son,  Cambridge. 


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